LEAVES 


rf 


GRASS 


Washington,  D.-  C. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

WALT  WHITMAN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Electrotyped  by  SMITH  &  McDouGAL,  82  Beekman  Street,  New  York, 


COJfTEJfTS. 


INSCRIPTIONS.  PAGE 

One's-Self  I  Sing 7 

As  I  Ponder'd  in  Silence 7 

In  Cabin'd  Ships  at  Sea 8 

To  Foreign  Lands.. 9 

To  a  Historian 10 

For  Him  I  Sing 10 

When  I  read  the  Book .'.'.".' .".".'  10 

Beginning  my  Studies ...  11 

To  Thee  Old  Cause  ! 11 

Starting  from  Paumanok . .  13 

The  Ship  Starting 27 

Unfolded  out  of  the  Folds 28 

To  You...  .28 

Walt  Whitman 29 

Laws  for  Creations 96 

Visor1  d 96 

CHILDREN  OF  ADAM. 

To  the  Garden  the  World 97 

From  Pent-up  Aching  Rivers 97 

I  Sing  the  Body  Electric 100 

A  Woman  Waits  for  Me 109 

Spontaneous  Me Ill 

One  Hour  to  Madness  and  Joy 113 

We  Two— How  long  We  were  Fool'd 114 

Out  of  the  Rolling  Ocean,  the  Crowd 115 

Native  Moments 116 

Once  I  pass'd  through  a  Populous  City 117 

Facing  West  from  California's  Shores 117 

Ages  and  Ages,  Returning  at  Intervals 118 

0  Hymen  !  O  Hymenee ! 118 

As  Adam,  Early  in  the  Morning 118 

1  Heard  You,  Solemn-sweet  Pipes  of  the  Organ 119 

I  am  He  that  Aches  with  Love 119 

To  Him  that  was  Crucified 120 

Perfections 120 

CALAMUS. 

In  Paths  Untrodden 121 

Scented  Herbage  of  My  Breast 122 

Whoever  You  are,  Holding  me  now  in  Hand 124 

These,  I,  Singing  in  Spring 125 

A  Song 127 

Not  Heaving  from  My  Ribb'd  Breast  Only 128 

Of  the  Terrible  Doubt  of  Appearances 128 

The  Base  of  all  Metaphysics 129 

Recorders  Ages  Hence 180 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CALAMUS. 

When  I  heard  at  the  Close  of  the  Day  ...............................  IS 

Are  you  the  New  person,  drawn  toward  Me  ?  .........................  Ic 

Boots  and  Leaves  Themselves  Alone  .................................  132 

Not  Heat  Flames  up  and  Consumes  ...................................  13 

Trickle,  Drops  ....................................................  134 

City  of  Orgies  .......................................................  134 

Behold  this  Swarthy  Face  ............................................  135 

I  saw  in  Louisiana  a  Live  Oak  Growing  ..............................  135 

To  a  Stranger  ........................................................  136 

This  moment,  Yearning  and  Thoughtful  ...............  ..............  136 

I  hear  it  was  Charged  against  Me  .....................................  137 

The  Prairie-Grass  Dividing  ..........................................  137 

We  Two  Boys  Together  Clinging  .....................................  138 

APromiseto  California  .............................................  138 

Here  the  Frailest  Leaves  of  Me  .....................................  138 

When  I  peruse  the  Conquered  Fame  .................................  139 

What  think  You  I  take  my  Pen  in  Hand  ?  .............................  139 

A  Glimpse  ...........................................................  140 

No  Labor-Saving  Machine  ...........................................  140 

A  Leaf  for  Hand  in  Hand  ...........................................  140 

To  the  East  and  to  the  West  .........................................  141 

Earth  1  my  Likeness  1  ................................................  141 

I  Dream1  d  in  a  Dream        ...........................................  141 

Fast  Anchor'd,  Eternal,  O  Love  .......................................  142 

Sometimes  with  One  I  Love  ..........................................  142 

That  Shadow,  my  Likeness  ...........................................  142 

Among  the  Multitude  .................................................  143 

To  a  Western  Boy  ...................................................  143 

0  You  Whom  I  Often  and  Silently  come  ..............................  143 

Full  of  Life,  Now  ....................................................  144 

Salut  an  Monde...  ............................  145 

A  Child's  Amaze  ..........................................................  158 

The  Runner  ..............................................................  158 

Beautiful  Women  ........................................................  158 

Mother  and  Babe  .........................................................  158 

Thought  ..................................................................  158 

American  Feuillage  ......................................................  159 

Song  of  the  Broad-Axe  .............................................  ......  165 

Song  of  the  Open  Road  ...................................................  177 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

1  sit  and  Look  Out  ...................................................     189 

Me  Imperturbe  .......................................................  189 

As  I  lay  with  my  Head  in  your  Lap,  Camerado  .......  ................  190 

Ferry  ...  .  .  191 


Crossing  Brooklyn 
With  Antecedents 


THE  ANSWERER. 

Now  list  to  my  Morning's  Romanza  .................  ........  201 

The  Indications  ...........................  204 

Poets  to  Come  ........................................................  206 

I  Hear  America  Singing  ...........................  '  "  .......  ..  .  .  .  ......  207 

The  City  Dead  House  .................  ..  208 

A  Farm-Picture  ......  ...................................  /  208 

Carol  of  Occupations  ......................  '209 

Thoughts  .........................  '  218 

The  Sleepers  ............... 

Carol  of  Words  .........  ...........  "231 

Ah  Poverties,  Wincings  and  Sulky  Retreats.  ','.'.'.  '.  .'.'.'.'.'  '.'.'.'.'.'.'.  '.'.'.'.".  ..'..'.'.'.'.  238 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

A  Boston  Ballad,  1854  .............  239 

Year  of  Meteors,  1859-'60  .......  .       .  ____  "   '  241 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  Broadway  Pageant 243 

Suggestions 248 

Great  are  the  Myths 249 

Thought 252 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

There  was  a  Child  went  Forth 253 

Longings  for  Home . .  255 

Think  of  the  Soul 257 

You  Felons  on  Trial  in  Courts , 258 

To  a  Common  Prostitute 259 

I  was  Looking  a  Long  While 259 

To  a  President •  •    260 

To  The  States 260 

DRUM-TAPS. 

Drum-Taps 261 

1861 264 

Beat!  Beat!  Drums! 265 

From  Paumanok  Starting 266 

Rise,ODays 267 

City  of  Ships 269 

The  Centenarian's  Story 270 

An  Army  Corps  on  the  March 276 

Cavalry  Crossing  a  Ford 276 

Bivouac  on  a  Mountain  Side 277 

By  the  Bivouac's  Fitful  Flame 277 

Come  up  from  the  Fields,  Father 278 

Vigil  Strange  I  Kept  on  the  Field 280 

A  March  in  the  Ranks,  Hard-prest 281 

Sight  in  Camp 282 

Not  the  Pilot,  &c 283 

As  Toilsome  I  Wander'd 284 

Year  that  Trembled 284 

The  Dresser 285 

Long,  too  Long,  O  Land ! 288 

Give  me  the  Splendid,  Silent  Sun 288 

Dirge  for  Two  Veterans 290 

Over  the  Carnage 292 

The  Artilleryman's  Vision 293 

I  saw  Old  General  at  Bay 294 

O  Tan-faced  Prairie  Boy 295 

Look  Down,  Fair  Moon 295 

Reconciliation 295 

Spirit  whose  Work  is  Done 296 

How  Solemn  as  One  by  One 297 

Not  Youth  Pertains  to  Me 297 

To  the  Leaven'd  Soil  They  Trod 298 

LEAVES  OP  GEASS. 

Faces 299 

Manhattan  Streets  I  Sannter'd,  Pondering 303 

All  is  Truth 307 

Voices 308 

MAKCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER. 

As  I  sat  Alone  by  Blue  Ontario's  shores 3C 

Pioneers !  O  Pioneers  1 327 

Respondez  ! 333 

Turn,  O  Libertad 337 

Adieu  to  a  Soldier 337 

As  I  walk  These  Broad,  Majestic  Days 3c 

Weave  in,  Weave  in,  My  Hardy  Life 339 

Race  of  Veterans 340 

O  Sun  of  Real  Peace 340 


vi  CONTENTS. 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  PAGE 

This  Compost 341 

Unnamed  Lands 343 

Mannahatta 345 

Old  Ireland 346 

To  Oratists 347 

Solid,  Ironical,  Rolling  Orb 348 

BATHED  IN  WAR'S  PERFUME. 

Bathed  in  War's  Perfume 349 

Delicate  Cluster 349 

Song  of  the  Banner  at  Day-Break 350 

Ethiopia  Saluting  the  Colors 357 

Lo  1  V  ictress  on  the  Peaks 358 

World,  Take  Good  Notice 358 

Thick-Sprinkled  Bunting 359 

A  Hand-Mirror 360 

Germs 360 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

O  Me  !  O  Life  1 361 

Thoughts 361 

Beginners 362 

SONGS  OF  INSURRECTION. 

Still,  though  the  One  I  sing 363 

To  a  foil'd  European  Revolutionaire 363 

France,  the  18th  year  of  These  States 365 

Europe,  the  72d  and  73d  years  of  These  States 367 

Walt  Whitman's  Caution 369 

To  a  Certain  Cantatrice 369 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

To  You 370 

SONGS  OF  PARTING. 

As  the  Time  Draws  Nigh 373 

Years  of  the  Modern 373 

Thoughts 375 

Song  at  Sunset 377 

When  I  heard  the  Learn'd  Astronomer 380 

To  Rich  Givers 380 

Thought 380 

So  Long...., 381 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


ONE'S-SELF  I  SING. 

1  ONE'S-SELF  I  sing — a  simple,  separate  Person  ; 
Yet  utter  the  word  Democratic,  the  word  En-masse. 

2  Of  Physiology  from  top  to  toe  I  sing ; 

Not  physiognomy  alone,  nor  brain  alone,  is  worthy  for 
the  muse — I  say  the  Form  complete  is  worthier 
far; 

The  Female  equally  with  the  male  I  sing. 

3  Of  Life  immense  in  passion,  pulse,  and  power, 
Cheerful — for  freest  action  form'd,  under  the  laws  di 
vine, 

The  Modern  Man  I  sing. 


AS  I  PONDER'D  IN  SILENCE. 
1 

As  I  ponder'd  in  silence, 

Eeturning  upon  my  poems,  considering,  lingering  long, 
A  Phantom  arose  before  me,  with  distrustful  aspect, 
Terrible  in  beauty,  age,  and  power, 


8  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  genius  of  poets  of  old  lands, 

As  to  me  directing  like  flame  its  eyes, 

With  finger  pointing  to  many  immortal  songs, 

And  menacing  voice,  What  singest  thou  ?  it  said  ; 

Know'st  thou  not,  there  is  but  one  theme  for  ever-enduring 

bards  ? 

And  that  is  the  theme  of  War,  the  fortune  of  battles, 
The  making  of  perfect  soldiers  f 

2 

Be  it  so,  then  I  answer'd, 

/  too,  haughty  Shade,  also  sing  war — and  a  longer  and 
greater  one  than  any, 

Waged  in  my  book  with  varying  fortune — with  flight,  ad 
vance,  and  retreat —  Victory  deferred  and  wavering, 

( Yet,  methinks,  certain,  or  as  good  as  certain,  at  the  last,) 
—The  field  the  world  ; 

For  life  and  death— for  the  Body,  and  for  the  eternal  Soul, 

Lo  !  I  too  am  come,  chanting  the  chant  of  battles, 

I,  above  all,  promote  brave  soldiers. 


IN  CABIN'D  SHIPS  AT  SEA. 


IN  cabin'd  ships,  at  sea, 

The  boundless  blue  on  every  side  expanding, 

With  whistling  winds   and  music  of  the  waves — the 

large  imperious  waves — In  such, 
Or  some  lone  bark,  buoy'd  on  the  dense  marine, 
Where,  joyous,  full  of  faith,  spreading  white  sails, 
She  cleaves  the  ether,  mid  the  sparkle  and  the  foam  of 

day,  or  under  many  a  star  at  night, 
By  sailors  young  and  old,  haply  will  I,  a  reminiscence 

of  the  land,  be  read, 
In  full  rapport  at  last. 


INSCRIPTIONS.  9 

2 

Here  are  our  thoughts — voyagers'  thoughts, 

Here  not  the  land,  firm  land,  alone  appears,  may  then  by 
them  be  said ; 

The  sky  overarches  here — we  feel  the  undulating  deck  be 
neath  our  feet, 

We  feel  the  long  pulsation — ebb  and  flow  of  endless  mo 
tion  ; 

The  tones  of  unseen  mystery — the  vague  and  vast  sugges 
tions  of  the  briny  world — the  liquid-flowing  sylla 
bles, 

The  perfume,  the  faint  creaking  of  the  cordage,  the  melan 
choly  rhythm, 

The  boundless  vista,  and  the  horizon  far  and  dim.  are  all 
here, 

And  this  is  Ocean's  poem. 


Then  falter  not,  O  book !  fulfil  your  destiny ! 

You,  not  a  reminiscence  of  the  land  alone, 

You  too,  as  a  lone  bark,  cleaving  the  ether — purpos'd  I 

know  not  whither — yet  ever  full  of  faith, 
Consort  to  every  ship  that  sails — sail  you ! 
Bear  forth  to  them,  folded,  my  love — (Dear  mariners ! 

for  you  I  fold  it  here,  in  every  leaf ;) 
Speed  on,  my  Book  !  spread  your  white  sails,  my  little 

bark,  athwart  the  imperious  waves  ! 
Chant  on — sail  on — bear  o'er  the  boundless  blue,  from 

me,  to  every  shore, 
This  song  for  mariners  and  all  their  ships. 


TO  FOREIGN  LANDS. 

I  HEARD  that  you  ask'd  for  something  to  prove  this 

puzzle,  the  New  World, 

And  to  define  America,  her  athletic  Democracy  ; 
Therefore  I  send  you  my  poems,  that  you  behold  in 

them  what  you  wanted. 


10  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


TO  A  HISTORIAN. 

You  who  celebrate  bygones  ! 

Who  have  explored  the  outward,  the  surfaces  of  the 

races — the  life  that  has  exhibited  itself  ; 
Who  have  treated  of  man  as  the  creature  of  politics, 

aggregates,  rulers  and  priests  ; 
I,  habitan  of  the  Alleghanies,  treating  of  him  as  he  is 

in  himself,  in  his  own  rights, 
Pressing  the  pulse  of  the  life  that  has  seldom  exhibited 

itself,  (the  great  pride  of  man  in  himself  ;) 
Chanter  of  Personality,  outlining  what  is  yet  to  be, 
I  project  the  history  of  the  future. 


FOR  HIM  I  SING. 

FOB  him  I  sing, 

I  raise  the  Present  on  the  Past, 

(As  some  perennial  tree,  out  of  its  roots,  the  present  on 
the  past :) 

With  time  and  space  I  him  dilate — and  fuse  the  im 
mortal  laws, 

To  make  himself,  by  them,  the  law  unto  himself. 


WHEN  I  READ  THE  BOOK. 

WHEN  I  read  the  book,  the  biography  famous, 

And  is  this,   then,  (said  I,)  what  the  author  calls  a 

man's  life  ? 
And  so  will  some  one,  when  I  am  dead  and  gone,  write 

my  life  ? 


INSCRIPTIONS.  11 

(As  if  any  man  really  knew  aught  of  my  life  ; 

Why,  even  I  myself,  I  often  think,  know  little  or  noth 
ing  of  my  real  life  ; 

Only  a  few  hints — a  few  diffused,  faint  clues  and  indi 
rections, 

I  seek,  for  my  own  use,  to  trace  out  here.) 


BEGINNING  MY  STUDIES. 

BEGINNING  my  studies,  the  first  step  pleas'd  me  so 
much, 

The  mere  fact,  consciousness — these  forms — the  power 
of  motion, 

The  least  insect  or  animal — the  senses — eyesight — 
love  ; 

The  first  step,  I  say,  aw'd  me  and  pleas'd  me  so  much, 

I  have  hardly  gone,  and  hardly  wish'd  to  go,  any  far 
ther, 

But  stop  and  loiter  all  the  time,  to  sing  it  in  extatic 
songs. 


TO  THEE,  OLD  CAUSE! 

1  To  thee,  old  Cause ! 

Thou  peerless,  passionate,  good  cause ! 

Thou  stern,  remorseless,  sweet  Idea! 

Deathless  throughout  the  ages,  races,  lands ! 

After  a  strange,  sad  war — great  war  for  thee, 

(I  think  all  war  through  time  was  really  fought,  and 

ever  will  be  really  fought,  for  thee  ;) 
These  chants  for  thee — the  eternal  march  of  thee. 

2  Thou  orb  of  many  orbs  ! 

Thou  seething  principle !  Thou  well-kept,  latent  germ ! 
Thou  centre ! 


12  LEAVES  or  G-BASS. 

Around  the  idea  of  thee  the  strange  sad  war  revolv 
ing, 

With  all  its  angry  and  vehement  play  of  causes, 

(With  yet  unknown  results  to  come,  for  thrice  a  thou 
sand  years,) 

These  recitatives  for  thee — my  Book  and  the  War  are 
one, 

Merged  in  its  spirit  I  and  mine — as  the  contest  hinged 
on  thee, 

As  a  wheel  on  its  axis  turns,  this  Book,  unwitting  to 
itself, 

Around  the  Idea  of  thee. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


STARTING  FROM  PAUMANOK. 


1  STARTING  from  fish-shape  Paumanok,  where  I  was 
born, 

Well-begotten,  and  rais'd  by  a  perfect  mother  ; 

After  roaming  many  lands — lover  of  populous  pave 
ments  ; 

Dweller  in  Mannahatta,  my  city — or  on  southern  sa 
vannas  ; 

Or  a  soldier  camp'd,  or  carrying  my  knapsack  and  gun 
— or  a  miner  in  California  ; 

Or  rude  in  my  home  in  Dakota's  woods,  my  diet  meat, 
my  drink  from  the  spring  ; 

Or  withdrawn  to  muse  and  meditate  in  some  deep  re 
cess, 

Far  from  the  clank  of  crowds,  intervals  passing,  rapt 
and  happy ; 

Aware  of  the  fresh  free  giver,  the  flowing  Missouri — 
aware  of  mighty  Niagara  ; 

Aware  of  the  buffalo  herds,  grazing  the  plains — the 
hirsute  and  strong-breasted  bull ; 

Of  earth,  rocks,  Fifth-month  flowers,  experienced — 
stars,  rain,  snow,  my  amaze  ; 

Having  studied  the  mocking-bird's  tones,  and  the 
mountain-hawk's, 

And  heard  at  dusk  the  unrival'd  one,  the  hermit  thrush 
from  the  swamp-cedars, 

Solitary,  singing  in  the  West,  I  strike  up  for  a  New 
World. 


14  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

2 

2  Victory,  union,  faith,  identity,  time, 

The  indissoluble  compacts,  riches,  mystery, 

Eternal  progress,  the  kosmos,  and  the  modern  reports. 

3  This,  then,  is  life  ; 

Here  is  what  has  come  to  the  surface  after  so  many 
throes  and  convulsions. 

4  How  curious  !  how  real ! 

Underfoot  the  divine  soil — overhead  the  sun, 

6  See,  revolving,  the  globe  ; 

The  ancestor-continents,  away,  group'd  together  ; 
The  present  and  future  continents,  north  and  south, 
with  the  isthmus  between. 

6  See,  vast,  trackless  spaces  ; 

As  in  a  dream,  they  change,  they  swiftly  fill ; 
Countless  masses  debouch  upon  them  ; 
They  are  now  cover'd  with  the  foremost  people,  arts, 
institutions,  known. 

7  See,  projected,  through  time, 
For  me,  an  audience  interminable. 

8  With  firm  and  regular  step  they  wend — they  never  stop, 
Successions  of  men,  Americanos,  a  hundred  millions  ; 
One  generation  playing  its  part,  and  passing  on  ; 
Another  generation  playing  its  part,  and  passing  on  in 

its  turn, 
"With  faces  turn'd  sideways  or  backward  towards  me,  to 

listen, 
With  eyes  retrospective  towards  me. 

3 

9  Americanos  !  conquerors !  marches  humanitarian  ; 
Foremost !  century  marches !  Libertad !  masses  ! 
For  you  a  programme  of  chants. 


STAETTNG  FKOM  PAUMANOK.  15 

10  Chants  of  the  prairies  ; 

Chants  of  the  long-running  Mississippi,  and  down  to 

the  Mexican  sea ; 
Chants  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois,  Iowa,  Wisconsin  and 

Minnesota  ; 
Chants  going  forth  from  the  centre,  from  Kansas,  and 

thence,  equi-distant, 
Shooting  in  pulses  of  fire,  ceaseless,  to  vivify  all. 


11  In  the  Tear  80  of  The  States, 

My  tongue,  every  atom  of  my  blood,  form'd  from  this 

soil,  this  air, 
Born  here  of  parents  born  here,  from  parents  the  same, 

and  their  parents  the  same, 

I,  now  thirty- six  years  old,  in  perfect  health,  begin, 
Hoping  to  cease  not  till  death. 

12  Creeds  and  schools  in  abeyance, 

(Retiring  back  a  while,  sufficed  at  what  they  are,  but 

never  forgotten,) 
I  harbor,  for  good  or  bad — I  permit  to  speak,  at  every 

hazard, 
Nature  now  without  check,  with  original  energy. 


13  Take  my  leaves,  America !  take  them,  South,  and  take 

them,  North  ! 

Make  welcome  for  them  everywhere,  for  they  are  your 
own  offspring  ; 

Surround  them,  East  and  West !  for  they  would  sur 
round  you ; 

And  you  precedents !  connect  lovingly  with  them,  for 
they  connect  lovingly  with  you. 

14  I  conn'd  old  times  ; 

I  sat  studying  at  the  feet  of  the  great  masters  : 
Now,  if  eligible,  O  that  the  great  masters  might  return 
and  study  me ! 


16  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

15  In  the  name  of  These  States,  shall  I  scorn  the  an 

tique  ? 

Why  These  are  the  children  of  the  antique,  to  jus 
tify  it. 

6 

16  Dead  poets,  philosophs,  priests, 

Martyrs,  artists,  inventors,  governments  long  since, 

Language-shapers,  on  other  shores, 

Nations  once  powerful,  now  reduced,  withdrawn,  or 
desolate, 

I  dare  not  proceed  till  I  respectfully  credit  what  you 
have  left,  wafted  hither  : 

I  have  perused  it — own  it  is  admirable,  (moving  awhile 
among  it ;) 

Think  nothing  can  ever  be  greater — nothing  can  ever 
deserve  more  than  it  deserves  ; 

Regarding  it  all  intently  a  long  while — then  dismiss 
ing  it, 

I  stand  in  my  place,  with  my  own  day,  here. 

17  Here  lands  female  and  male  ; 

Here  the  heir-ship  and  heiress-ship  of  the  world — here 

the  flame  of  materials  ; 

Here  Spirituality,  the  translatress,  the  openly-avow'd, 
The  ever-tending,  the  finale  of  visible  forms  ; 
The  satisfier,  after  due  long-waiting,  now  advancing, 
Yes,  here  comes  my  mistress,  the  Soul. 

7 

18  The  SOUL  : 

Forever  and  forever — longer  than  soil  is  brown  and 
solid — longer  than  water  ebbs  and  flows. 

19  I  will  make  the  poems  of  materials,  for  I  think  they 

are  to  be  the  most  spiritual  poems  ; 

And  I  will  make  the  poems  of  my  body  and  of  mor 
tality, 

For  I  think  I  shall  then  supply  myself  with  the  poems 
of  my  Soul,  and  of  immortality. 


STARTING  FROM  PAUMANOK.  17 

20  I  will  make  a  song  for  These  States,  that  no  one  State 

may  under  any  circumstances  be  subjected  to 

another  State  ; 
And  I  will  make  a  song  that  there  shall  be  comity  by 

day  and  by  night  between  all  The  States,  and 

between  any  two  of  them  ; 
And  I  will  make  a  song  for  the  ears  of  the  President, 

full  of  weapons  with  menacing  points, 
And  behind  the  weapons  countless  dissatisfied  faces  : 
— And  a  song  make  I,  of  the  One  fonn'd  out  of  all ; 
The  fang'd  and  glittering  One  whose  head  is  over  all ; 
Resolute,  warlike  One,  including  and  over  all ; 
(However  high  the  head  of  any  else,  that  head  is  over 

all.) 

21  I  will  acknowledge  contemporary  lands  ; 

I  will  trail  the  whole  geography  of  the  globe,  and  sa 
lute  courteously  every  city  large  and  small ; 

And  employments !  I  will  put  in  my  poems,  that  with 
you  is  heroism,  upon  land  and  sea  ; 

And  I  will  report  all  heroism  from  an  American  point 
of  view. 

22  I  will  sing  the  song  of  companionship  ; 

I  will  show  what  alone  must  finally  compact  These  ; 

I  believe  These  are  to  found  their  own  ideal  of  manly 
love,  indicating  it  in  me  ; 

I  will  therefore  let  flame  from  me  the  burning  fires  that 
were  threatening  to  consume  me  ; 

I  will  lift  what  has  too  long  kept  down  those  smoulder 
ing  fires ; 

I  will  give  them  complete  abandonment ; 

I  will  write  the  evangel-poem  of  comrades,  and  of  love  ; 

(For  who  but  I  should  understand  love,  with  all  its  sor 
row  and  joy  ? 

And  who  but  I  should  be  the  poet  of  comrades?) 

8 

23  I  am  the  credulous  man  of  qualities,  ages,  races  ;     , 
I  advance  from  the  people  in  their  own  spirit ; 

Here  is  what  sings  unrestricted  faith. 


18  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

24  Omnes !  Omnes !  let  others  ignore  what  they  may  ; 

I  make  the  poem  of  evil  also — I  commemorate  that  part 

also  ; 
I  am  myself  just  as  much  evil  as  good,  and  my  nation 

is — And  I  say  there  is  in  fact  no  evil ; 
(Or  if  there  is,  I  say  it  is  just  as  important  to  you,  to 

the  land,  or  to  me,  as  anything  else.) 

25  I  too,  following  many,  and  follow'd  by  many,  inau 

gurate  a  Religion — I  descend  into  the  arena ; 
(It  may  be  I  am  destined  to  utter  the  loudest  cries  there, 

the  winner's  pealing  shouts  ; 
Who  knows  ?  they  may  rise  from  me  yet,  and  soar  above 

every  thing.) 

26  Each  is  not  for  its  own  sake  ; 

I  say  the  whole  earth,  and  all  the  stars  in  the  sky,  are 
for  Religion's  sake. 

27  I  say  no  man  has  ever  yet  been  half  devout  enough  ; 
None  has  ever  yet  adored  or  worship'd  half  enough  ; 
None  has  begun  to  think  how  divine  he  himself  is,  and 

how  certain  the  future  is. 

28  I  say  that  the  real  and  permanent  grandeur  of  These 

States  must  be  their  Religion  ; 

Otherwise  there  is  no  real  and  permanent  grandeur  : 
(Nor  character,  nor  life  worthy  the  name,  without  Reli 
gion  ; 
Nor  land,  nor  man  or  woman,  without  Religion.) 

9 

29  What  are  you  doing,  young  man  ? 

Are  you  so  earnest — so  given  up  to  literature,  science, 

art,  amours  ? 

These  ostensible  realities,  politics,  points  ? 
Your  ambition  or  business,  whatever  it  may  be  ? 

30  It  is  well — Against  such  I  say  not  a  word — I  am 

their  poet  also  ; 


STAKTING  FEOM  PAUMANOK.  19 

But  behold !  such  swiftly  subside — burnt  up  for  Reli 
gion's  sake ; 

For  not  all  matter  is  fuel  to  heat,  impalpable  flame,  the 
essential  life  of  the  earth, 

Any  more  than  such  are  to  Religion. 

10 

31  What  do  you  seek,  so  pensive  and  silent  ? 
What  do  you  need,  Camerado  ? 

Dear  son  !   do  you  think  it  is  love  ? 

32  Listen,  dear  son — listen,  America,  daughter  or  son ! 
It  is  a  painful  thing  to  love  a  man  or  woman  to  excess 

— and  yet  it  satisfies — it  is  great ; 
But  there  is  something  else  very  great — it  makes  the 

whole  coincide ; 
It,    magnificent,    beyond    materials,   with    continuous 

hands,  sweeps  and  provides  for  all. 

11 

33  Know  you !    solely  to  drop  in  the  earth  the  germs  of 

a  greater  Religion, 
The  following  chants,  each  for  its  kind,  I  sing. 

84  My  comrade ! 

For  you,  to  share  with  me,  two  greatnesses — and  a  third 
one,  rising  inclusive  and  more  resplendent, 

The  greatness  of  Love  and  Democracy — and  the  great 
ness  of  Religion. 

35  Melange  mine  own !  the  unseen  and  the  seen  ; 
Mysterious  ocean  where  the  streams  empty  ; 
Prophetic  spirit  of    materials   shifting  and  flickering 

around  me  ; 
Living  beings,  identities,  now  doubtless  near  us,  in  the 

air,  that  we  know  not  of  ; 

Contact  daily  and  hourly  that  will  not  release  me  ; 
These  selecting— these,  in  hints,  demanded  of  me. 


20  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

36  Not  he,  with  a  daily  kiss,  onward  from   childhood 

kissing  me, 

Has  winded  and  twisted  around  me  that  which  holds 
me  to  him, 

Any  more  than  I  am  held  to  the  heavens,  to  the  spir 
itual  world, 

And  to  the  identities  of  the  Gods,  my  lovers,  faithful 
and  true, 

After  what  they  have  done  to  me,  suggesting  themes. 

37  0  such  themes !     Equalities ! 

O  amazement  of  things !     O  divine  average ! 
O  warblings  under  the  sun — usher'd,  as  now,  or  at  noon, 
or  setting ! 

0  strain,  musical,  flowing  through  ages — now  reaching 

hither! 

1  take  to  your  reckless  and  composite  chords — I  add  to 

them,  and  cheerfully  pass  them  forward. 

12 

38  As  I  have  walk'd  in  Alabama  my  morning  walk, 

I  have  seen  where  the  she-bird,  the  mocking-bird,  sat 
on  her  nest  in  the  briers,  hatching  her  brood. 

39  I  have  seen  the  he-bird  also  ; 

I  have  paused  to  hear  him,  near  at  hand,  inflating  his 
throat,  and  joyfully  singing. 

40  And  while  I  paused,  it  came  to  me  that  what  he 

really  sang  for  was  not  there  only, 
Nor  for  his  'mate,  nor  himself  only,  nor  all  sent  back  by 

the  echoes ; 

But  subtle,  clandestine,  away  beyond, 
A  charge  transmitted,  and  gift  occult,  for  those  being 

born. 

13 

41  Democracy ! 

Near  at  hand  to  you  a  throat  is  now  inflating  itself  and 
joyfully  singing. 


STARTING  FROM  PAUMANOK.  21 

42  Ma  femme ! 

For  the  brood  beyond  us  and  of  us, 

For  those  who  belong  here,  and  those  to  come, 

I,  exultant,  to  be  ready  for  them,  will  now  shake  out 

carols  stronger  and  haughtier  than  have  ever  yet 

been  heard  upon  earth. 

43  I  will  make  the  songs  of  passion,  to  give  them  their 

way, 

And  your  songs,  outlaw'd  offenders — for  I  scan  you 
with  kindred  eyes,  and  carry  you  with  me  the 
same  as  any. 

44  I  will  make  the  true  poem  of  riches, 

To  earn  for  the  body  and  the  mind  whatever  adheres, 
and  goes  forward,  and  is  not  dropt  by  death. 

45  I  will  effuse  egotism,  and  show  it  underlying  all — and 

I  will  be  the  bard  of  personality  ; 

And  I  will  show  of  male  and  female  that  either  is  but 
the  equal  of  the  other  ; 

And  sexual  organs  and  acts  !  do  you  concentrate  in  me 
— for  I  am  determin'd  to  tell  you  with  courageous 
clear  voice,  to  prove  you  illustrious  ; 

And  I  will  show  that  there  is  no  imperfection  in  the 
present — and  can  be  none  in  the  future  ; 

And  I  will  show  that  whatever  happens  to  anybody,  it 
may  be  turn'd  to  beautiful  results — and  I  will 
show  that  nothing  can  happen  more  beautiful 
than  death ; 

And  I  will  thread  a  thread  through  my  poems  that  time 
and  events  are  compact, 

And  that  all  the  things  of  the  universe  are  perfect  mira 
cles,  each  as  profound  as  any. 

46  I  will  not  make  poems  with  reference  to  parts  ; 

But  I  will  make  leaves,  poems,  poemets,  songs,  says, 
thoughts,  with  reference  to  ensemble  : 

And  I  will  not  sing  with  reference  to  a  day,  but  with 
reference  to  all  days  ; 

And  I  will  not  make  a  poem,  nor  the  least  part  of  a 
poem,  but  has  reference  to  the  Soul ; 


22  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

(Because,  having  look'd  at  the  objects  of  the  universe, 
I  find  there  is  no  one,  nor  any  particle  of  one, 
but  has  reference  to  the  Soul.) 

14 

47  Was  somebody  asking  to  see  the  Soul  ? 

See !  your  own  shape  and  countenance — persons,  sub 
stances,  beasts,  the  trees,  the  running  rivers,  the 
rocks  and  sands. 

48  All  hold  spiritual  joys,  and  afterwards  loosen  them  : 
How  can  the  real  body  ever  die,  and  be  buried  ? 

49  Of  your  real  body,  and  any  man's  or  woman's  real  body, 
Item  for  item,  it  will  elude  the  hands  of  the  corpse- 
cleaners,  and  pass  to  fitting  spheres, 

Carrying  what  has  accrued  to  it  from  the  moment  of 
birth  to  the  moment  of  death. 

60  Not  the  types  set  up  by  the  printer  return  their  im 

pression,  the  meaning,  the  main  concern, 
Any  more  than  a  man's  substance  and  life,  or  a  wo 
man's  substance  and  life,  return  in  the  body  and 
the  Soul, 
Indifferently  before  death  and  after  death. 

61  Behold  !  the  body  includes  and  is  the  meaning,  the 

main  concern — and  includes  and  is  the  Soul ; 
Whoever  you  are !  how  superb  and  how  divine  is  your 
body,  or  any  part  of  it. 

15 

62  Whoever  you  are !  to  you  endless  announcements. 

63  Daughter  of  the  lands,  did  you  wait  for  your  poet  ? 
Did  you  wait  for  one  with  a  flowing  mouth  and  indica 
tive  hand  ? 

64  Toward  the  male  of  The  States,  and  toward  the  fe 

male  of  The  States, 
Live  words — words  to  the  lands. 


STARTING  FEOM  PATJMANOK.  23 

55  O  the  lands  !  interlink'd,  food-yielding  lands  ! 

Land  of  coal  and  iron !  Land  of  gold !  Lands  of  cot 
ton,  sugar,  rice ! 

Land  of  wheat,  beef,  pork !  Land  of  wool  and  hemp ! 
Land  of  the  apple  and  grape  ! 

Land  of  the  pastoral  plains,  the  grass-fields  of  the 
world!  Land  of  those  sweet-air'd  interminable 
plateaus ! 

Land  of  the  herd,  the  garden,  the  healthy  house  of 
adobie ! 

Lands  where  the  northwest  Columbia  winds,  and  where 
the  southwest  Colorado  winds  ! 

Land  of  the  eastern  Chesapeake !  Land  of  the  Dela 
ware  ! 

Land  of  Ontario,  Erie,  Huron,  Michigan  ! 

Land  of  the  Old  Thirteen !  Massachusetts  land !  Land 
of  Vermont  and  Connecticut ! 

Land  of  the  ocean  shores  !  Land  of  sierras  and  peaks ! 

Land  of  boatmen  and  sailors  !  Fishermen's  land ! 

Inextricable  lands !  the  clutch'd  together !  the  passion 
ate  ones ! 

The  side  by  side !  the  elder  and  younger  brothers !  the 
bony-limb'd ! 

The  great  women's  land !  the  feminine  !  the  experienced 
sisters  and  the  inexperienced  sisters  ! 

Far  breath'd  land !  Arctic  braced !  Mexican  breez'd ! 
the  diverse  !  the  compact ! 

The  Pennsylvanian !  the  Virginian !  the  double  Caro 
linian  ! 

0  all  and  each  well-loved  by  me !   my  intrepid  nations ! 

O  I  at  any  rate  include  you  all  with  perfect  love ! 

1  cannot  be  discharged  from  you!   not  from  one,  any 

sooner  than  another ! 

O  Death !  O  for  all  that,  I  am  yet  of  you,  unseen,  this 
hour,  with  irrepressible  love, 

Walking  New  England,  a  friend,  a  traveler, 

Splashing  my  bare  feet  in  the  edge  of  the  summer  rip 
ples,  on  Paumanok's  sands, 

Crossing  the  prairies — dwelling  again  in  Chicago — 
dwelling  in  every  town, 

Observing  shows,  births,  improvements,  structures,  arts, 


24  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Listening  to  the  orators  and  the  oratresses  in  public 

halls, 
Of  and  through  The  States,  as  during  life — each  man 

and  woman  my  neighbor, 
The  Louisianian,  the  Georgian,  as  near  to  me,  and  I  as 

near  to  him  and  her, 
The  Mississippian  and  Arkansian  yet  with  me — and  I 

yet  with  any  of  them  ; 
Yet  upon  the  plains  west  of  the  spinal  river — yet  in  my 

house  of  adobie, 
Yet  returning  eastward — yet  in  the  Sea-Side  State,  or 

in  Maryland, 
Yet  Kanadian,  cheerily  braving  the  winter — the  snow 

and  ice  welcome  to  me, 
Yet  a  true  son  either  of  Maine,  or  of  the  Granite  State, 

or  of   the  Narragansett  Bay  State,  or  of   the 

Empire  State  ; 
Yet  sailing  to  other  shores  to  annex  the  same — yet 

welcoming  every  new  brother  ; 
Hereby  applying  these  leaves  to  the  new  ones,  from 

the  hour  they  unite  with  the  old  ones  ; 
Coming  among  the  new  ones  myself,  to  be  their  com 
panion   and    equal — coming  personally  to   you 

now  ; 
Enjoining  you  to  acts,  characters,  spectacles,  with  me. 

16 
56  With  me,  with  firm  holding — yet  haste,  haste  on. 

67  For  your  life,  adhere  to  me ! 

Of  all  the  men  of  the  earth,  I  only  can  unloose  you 
and  toughen  you  ; 

I  may  have  to  be  persuaded  many  times  before  I  con 
sent  to  give  myself  really  to  you — but  what  of 
that? 

Must  not  Nature  be  persuaded  many  times  ? 

68  No  dainty  dolce  affettuoso  I ; 

Bearded,  sun-burnt,  gray-neck'd,  forbidding,  I  have 
arrived, 


STARTING  FEOM  PAUMANOK.  25 

To  be  wrestled  with  as  I  pass,  for  the  solid  prizes  of 

the  universe  ; 
For  such  I  afford  whoever  can  persevere  to  win  them. 

17 

69  On  my  way  a  moment  I  pause  ; 

Here  for  you !  and  here  for  America ! 

Still  the  Present  I  raise  aloft — Still  the  Future  of  The 

States  I  harbinge,  glad  and  sublime  ; 
And  for  the  Past,  I  pronounce  what  the  air  holds  of 

the  red  aborigines. 

60  The  red  aborigines ! 

Leaving  natural  breaths,  sounds  of  rain  and  winds, 
calls  as  of  birds  and  animals  in  the  woods, 
syllabled  to  us  for  names  ; 

Okonee,  Koosa,  Ottawa,  Monongahela,  Sauk,  Natchez, 
Chattahoochee,  Kaqueta,  Oronoco, 

Wabash,  Miami,  Saginaw,  Chippewa,  Oshkosh,  Walla- 
Walla  ; 

Leaving  such  to  The  States,  they  melt,  they  depart, 
charging  the  water  and  the  land  with  names. 

18 

61  O  expanding  and  swift !  O  henceforth, 

Elements,  breeds,  adjustments,  turbulent,  quick,  and 
audacious  ; 

A  world  primal  again — Yistas  of  glory,  incessant  and 
branching  ; 

A  new  race,  dominating  previous  ones,  and  grander 
far — with  new  contests, 

New  politics,  new  literatures  and  religions,  new  in 
ventions  and  arts. 

62  These  !  my  voice  announcing — I  will  sleep  no  more, 

but  arise ; 

You  oceans  that  have  been  calm  within  me!  how  I 
feel  you,  fathomless,  stirring,  preparing  unpre 
cedented  waves  and  storms. 


26  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

19 

53  See !  steamers  steaming  through  my  poems ! 

See,  in  my  poems  immigrants  continually  coming  and 

landing  ; 
See,  in  arriere,  the  wigwam,  the  trail,  the  hunter's  hut, 

the  flat-boat,  the  maize-leaf,  the  claim,  the  rude 

fence,  and  the  backwoods  village  ; 
See,  on   the   one   side  the  Western  Sea,  and  on  the 

other  the  Eastern  Sea,  how  they  advance  and 

retreat   upon   my  poems,   as  upon   their   own 

shores. 

See,  pastures  and  forests  in  my  poems — See,  animals, 
wild  and  tame — See,  beyond  the  Kanzas,  count 
less  herds  of  buffalo,  feeding  on  short  curly 
grass ;  . 

See,  in  my  poems,  cities,  solid,  vast,  inland,  with  paved 
streets,  with  iron  and  stone  edifices,  ceaseless 
vehicles,  and  commerce  ; 

See,  the  many-cylinder'd  steam  printing-press — See, 
the  electric  telegraph,  stretching  across  the 
Continent,  from  the  Western  Sea'  to  Manhat 
tan  ; 

See,  through  Atlantica's  depths,  pulses  American, 
Europe  reaching — pulses  of  Europe,  duly  re- 
turn'd ; 

See,  the  strong  and  quick  locomotive,  as  it  departs, 
panting,  blowing  the  steam-whistle  ; 

See,  ploughmen,  ploughing  farms — See,  miners,  dig 
ging  mines — See,  the  numberless  factories  ; 

See,  mechanics,  busy  at  their  benches,  with  tools — 
See  from  among  them,  superior  judges,  philo- 
sophs,  Presidents,  emerge,  drest  in  working 
dresses ; 

See,  lounging  through  the  shops  and  fields  of  The 
States,  me,  well-beloved,  close-held  by  day  and 
night ; 

Hear  the  loud  echoes  of  my  songs  there !  Bead  the 
hints  come  at  last. 


STABTING  FEOM  PAUMANOK.  27 

20 

04  O  Camerado  close ! 

O  you  and  me  at  last — and  us  two  only. 

65  O  a  word  to  clear  one's  path  ahead  endlessly ! 

O  something  extatic  and  undemonstrable !     O  music 

wild! 

O  now  I  triumph — and  you  shall  also  ; 
O  hand  in  hand — O  wholesome  pleasure — O  one  more 

desirer  and  lover ! 
O  to  haste,  firm  holding — to  haste,  haste  on,  with  me. 


THE   SHIP   STARTING. 

Lo !  THE  unbounded  sea ! 

On  its  breast  a  Ship  starting,  spreading  all  her  sails — 

an  ample  Ship,  carrying  even  her  moonsails  ; 
The  pennant  is  flying  aloft,  as  she  speeds,  she  speeds 

so  stately — below,  emulous  waves  press  forward, 
They  surround  the  Ship,  with  shining  curving  motions, 

and  foam. 


28  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


UNFOLDED  OUT  OF  THE  FOLDS. 

UNFOLDED  out  of  the  folds  of  the  woman,  man  comes 
unfolded,  and  is  always  to  come  unfolded  ; 

Unfolded  only  out  of  the  superbest  woman  of  the  earth, 
is  to  come  the  superbest  man  of  the  earth  ; 

Unfolded  out  of  the  friendliest  woman,  is  to  come  the 
friendliest  man ; 

Unfolded  only  out  of  the  perfect  body  of  a  woman,  can 
a  man  be  form'd  of  perfect  body  ; 

Unfolded  only  out  of  the  inimitable  poem  of  the  wo 
man,  can  come  the  poems  of  man — (only  thence 
have  my  poems  come ;) 

Unfolded  out  of  the  strong  and  arrogant  woman  I  love, 
only  thence  can  appear  the  strong  and  arrogant 
man  I  love ; 

Unfolded  by  brawny  embraces  from  the  well-muscled 
woman  I  love,  only  thence  come  the  brawny  em 
braces  of  the  man ; 

Unfolded  out  of  the  folds  of  the  woman's  brain,  come 
all  the  folds  of  the  man's  brain,  duly  obedient ; 

Unfolded  out  of  the  justice  of  the  woman,  all  justice  is 
unfolded  ; 

Unfolded  out  of  the  sympathy  of  the  woman  is  all  sym 
pathy  : 

A  man  is  a  great  thing  upon  the  earth,  and  through 
eternity — but  every  jot  of  the  greatness  of  man 
is  unfolded  out  of  woman, 

First  the  man  is  shaped  in  the  woman,  he  can  then  be 
shaped  in  himself. 


TO    YOU. 

STRANGER  !  if  you,  passing,  meet  me,  and  desire  to  speak 

to  me,  why  should  you  not  speak  to  me  ? 
And  why  should  I  not  speak  to  you  ? 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


WALT  WHITMAN. 


1  I  CELEBRATE  myself  ; 

And  what  I  assume  you  shall  assume  ; 
For  every  atom  belonging  to  me,  as  good  belongs  to 
you. 

2  I  loafe  and  invite  my  Soul ; 

I  lean  and  loafe  at  my  ease,  observing  a  spear  of  sum 
mer  grass. 

3  Houses  and  rooms  are  full  of  perfumes — the  shelves 

are  crowded  with  perfumes  ; 

I  breathe  the  fragrance  myself,  and  know  it  and  like  it ; 
The  distillation  would  intoxicate  me  also,  but  I  shall 

not  let  it. 

4  The  atmosphere  is  not  a  perfume — it  has  no  taste  of 

the  distillation— it  is  odorless  ; 

It  is  for  my  mouth  forever — I  am  in  love  with  it ; 

I  will  go  to  the  bank  by  the  wood,  and  become  undis 
guised  and  naked ; 

I  am  mad  for  it  to  be  in  contact  with  me. 

2 

5  The  smoke  of  my  own  breath  ; 

Echoes,  ripples,  buzz'd  whispers,  love-root,  silk-thread, 

crotch  and  vine  ; 
My  respiration  and  inspiration,  the  beating  of  my  heart, 

the  passing  of  blood  and  air  through  my  lungs ; 


30  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  sniff  of  green  leaves  and  dry  leaves;  and  of  the 

shore,  and  dark-color'd  sea-rocks,  and  of  hay  in 

the  barn  ; 
The  sound  of  the  belch'd  words  of  my  voice,  words 

loos'd  to  the  eddies  of  the  wind  ; 
A  few  light  kisses,  a  few  embraces,  a  reaching  around 

of  arms  ; 
The  play  of  shine  and  shade  on  the  trees  as  the  supple 

boughs  wag ; 
The  delight  alone,  or  in  the  rush  of  the  streets,  or  along 

the  fields  and  hill-sides  ; 
The  feeling  of  health,  the  full-noon  trill,  the  song  of  me 

rising  from  bed  and  meeting  the  sun. 

6  Have  you  reckon'd  a  thousand  acres  much  ?  have  you 

reckoned  the  earth  much  ? 
Have  you  practis'd  so  long  to  learn  to  read  ? 
Have  you  felt   so  proud  to   get   at   the   meaning   of 

poems  ? 

7  Stop  this  day  and  night  with  me,  and  you  shall  pos 

sess  the  origin  of  all  poems  ; 

You  shall  possess  the  good  of  the  earth  and  sun — 
(there  are  millions  of  suns  left ;) 

You  shall  no  longer  take  things  at  second  or  third 
hand,  nor  look  through  the  eyes  of  the  dead, 
nor  feed  on  the  spectres  in  books  ; 

You  shall  not  look  through  my  eyes  either,  nor  take 
things  from  me  : 

You  shall  listen  to  all  sides,  and  filter  them  from  your 
self. 


8  I  have  heard  what  the  talkers  were  talking,  the  talk 

of  the  beginning  and  the  end  ; 
But  I  do  not  talk  of  the  beginning  or  the  end. 

9  There  was  never  any  more  inception  than  there  is 

now, 
Nor  any  more  youth  or  age  than  there  is  now  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  31 

And  will  never  be  any  more  perfection  than  there  is 

now, 
Nor  any  more  heaven  or  hell  than  there  is  now. 

10  Urge,  and  urge,  and  urge  ; 

Always  the  procreant  urge  of  the  world. 

11  Out  of  the  dimness  opposite  equals  advance — always 

substance  and  increase,  always  sex  ; 
Always  a  knit  of  identity — always  distinction — always  a 
breed  of  life. 

12  To  elaborate  is  no  avail — learn'd  and  unlearn'd  feel 

that  it  is  so. 

13  Sure  as  the  most  certain  sure,  plumb  in  the  uprights, 

well  entretied,  braced  in  the  beams, 
Stout  as  a  horse,  affectionate,  haughty,  electrical, 
I  and  this  mystery,  here  we  stand. 

14  Clear  and  sweet  is  my  Soul,  and  clear  and  sweet  is  all 

that  is  not  my  Soul. 

15  Lack  one  lacks  both,  and  the  unseen  is  proved  by 

the  seen, 

Till  that  becomes  unseen,  and  receives  proof  in  its 
turn. 

16  Showing  the  best,  and  dividing  it  from  the  worst, 

age  vexes  age  ; 

Knowing  the  perfect  fitness  and  equanimity  of  things, 
while  they  discuss  I  am  silent,  and  go  bathe  and 
admire  myself. 

17  Welcome  is  every  organ  and  attribute  of  me,  and  of 

any  man  hearty  and  clean  ; 

Not  an  inch,  nor  a  particle  of  an  inch,  is  vile,  and  none 
shall  be  less  familiar  than  the  rest. 


32  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

18  I  am  satisfied — I  see,  dance,  laugh,  sing  ; 

As  the  hugging  and  loving  Bed-fellow  sleeps  at  my  side 

through  the  night,  and  withdraws  at  the  peep  of 

the  day,  with  stealthy  tread, 
Leaving  me  baskets  cover'd  with  white  towels,  swelling 

the  house  with  their  plenty, 
Shall  I  postpone  my  acceptation  and  realization,  and 

scream  at  my  eyes, 

That  they  turn  from  gazing  after  and  down  the  road, 
And  forthwith  cipher  and  show  me  a  cent, 
Exactly  the  contents  of  one,  and  exactly  the  contents  of 

two,  and  which  is  ahead  ? 


19  Trippers  and  askers  surround  me  ; 

People  I  meet — the  effect  upon  me  of  my  early  life,  or 
the  ward  and  city  I  live  in,  or  the  nation, 

The  latest  dates,  discoveries,  inventions,  societies, 
authors  old  and  new, 

My  dinner,  dress,  associates,  looks,  compliments,  dues, 

The  real  or  fancied  indifference  of  some  man  or  woman 
I  love, 

The  sickness  of  one  of  my  folks,  or  of  myself,  or  ill- 
doing,  or  loss  or  lack  of  money,  or  depressions 
or  exaltations ; 

Battles,  the  horrors  of  fratricidal  war,  the  fever  of 
doubtful  news,  the  fitful  events  ; 

These  come  to  me  days  and  nights,  and  go  from  me 
again, 

But  they  are  not  the  Me  myself. 

20  Apart  from  the  pulling  and  hauling  stands  what  I 

am ; 

Stands  amused,  complacent,  compassionating,  idle,  uni 
tary  ; 

Looks  down,  is  erect,  or  bends  an  arm  on  an  impalpable 
certain  rest, 

Looking  with  side-curved  head,  curious  what  will  come 
next; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  33 

Both  in  and  out  of  the  game,  and  watching  and  won 
dering  at  it. 

21  Backward  I  see  in  my  own  days  where  I  sweated 

through  fog  with  linguists  and  contenders  ; 
I  have  no  meetings  or  arguments — I  witness  and  wait. 


22  I  believe  in  you,  my  Soul — the  other  I  am  must  not 

abase  itself  to  you  ; 
And  you  must  not  be  abased  to  the  other. 

23  Loafe  with  me  on  the  grass — loose  the  stop   from 

your  throat ; 
Not  words,  not  music  or  rhyme  I  want — not  custom  or 

lecture,  not  even  the  best ; 
Only  the  lull  I  like,  the  hum  of  your  valved  voice. 

54  I  mind  how  once  we  lay,  such  a  transparent  summer 

morning ; 
How  you  settled  your  head  athwart  my  hips,  and  gently 

turn'd  over  upon  me, 
And  parted  the  shirt  from  my  bosom-bone,  and  plunged 

your  tongue  to  my  bare-stript  heart, 
And  reach'd  till  you  felt  my  beard,  and  reach'd  till  you 

held  my  feet. 

25  Swiftly  arose  and  spread  around  me  the  peace  and 

knowledge   that  pass  all  the  argument  of  the 

earth  ; 
And  I  know  that  the  hand  of  God  is  the  promise  of  my 

own, 
And  I  know  that  the  spirit  of  God  is  the  brother  of  my 

own  ; 
And  that  all  the  men  ever  born  are  also  my  brothers, 

and  the  women  my  sisters  and  lovers  ; 
And  that  a  kelson  of  the  creation  is  love  ; 
And  limitless  are  leaves,  stiff  or  drooping  in  the  fields  ; 
And  brown  ants  in  the  little  wells  beneath  them  ; 
And  mossy  scabs  of  the  worm  fence,  and  heap'd  stones, 

elder,  mullen  and  poke-weed. 


34  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

6 

26  A  child  said,  What  is  the  grass  ?  fetching  it  to  me  with 

full  hands ; 
How  could  I  answer  the  child  ?    I  do  not  know  what  it 

is,  any  more  than  he. 

37  I  guess  it  must  be  the  flag  of  my  disposition,  out  of 
hopeful  green  stuff  woven. 

28  Or  I  guess  it  is  the  handkerchief  of  the  Lord, 
A  scented  gift  and  remembrancer,  designedly  dropt, 
Bearing  the  owner's  name  someway  in  the  corners,  that 
we  may  see  and  remark,  and  say,  Whose  ? 

39  Or  I  guess  the  grass  is  itself  a  child,  the  produced 
babe  of  the  vegetation. 

30  Or  I  guess  it  is  a  uniform  hieroglyphic ; 

And  it  means,  Sprouting  alike  in  broad  zones  and  nar 
row  zones, 

Growing  among  black  folks  as  among  white  ; 

Kanuck,  Tuckahoe,  Congressman,  Cuff,  I  give  them  the 
same,  I  receive  them  the  same. 

31  And  now  it  seems  to  me  the  beautiful  uncut  hair  of 

graves. 

32  Tenderly  will  I  use  you,  curling  grass  ; 

It  may  be  you   transpire   from  the   breasts  of  young 

men  ; 
It  may  be  if  I  had  known  them  I  would  have  loved 

them  ; 
It  may  be  you  are  from  old  people,  and  from  women, 

and   from    offspring    taken   soon    out   of   their 

mothers'  laps ; 
And  here  you  are  the  mothers'  laps. 

33  This  grass  is  very  dark  to  be  from  the  white  heads  of 

old  mothers ; 

Darker  than  the  colorless  beards  of  old  men  ; 
Dark  to  come  from  under  the  faint  red  roofs  of  mouths. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  35 

34  O  I  perceive  after  all  so  many  uttering  tongues ! 
And  I  perceive  they  do  not  come  from  the  roofs  of 

mouths  for  nothing. 

35  I  wish  I  could  translate  the  hints  about  the  dead 

young  men  and  women, 

And  the  hints  about  old  men  and  mothers,  and  the 
offspring  taken  soon  out  of  their  laps. 

36  What  do  you  think  has  become  of  the  young  and 

old  men  ? 

And  what  do  you  think  has  become  of  the  women  and 
children  ? 

37  They  are  alive  and  well  somewhere  ; 

The  smallest  sprout  shows  there  is  really  no  death  ; 
And  if  ever  there  was,  it  led  forward  life,  and  does  not 

wait  at  the  end  to  arrest  it, 
And  ceas'd  the  moment  life  appeared. 

38  All  goes  onward  and  outward — nothing  collapses ; 
And  to  die  is  different  from  what  any  one  supposed, 

and  luckier. 

7 

39  Has  any  one  supposed  it  lucky  to  be  born  ? 

I  hasten  to  inform  him  or  her,  it  is  just  as  lucky  to  die, 
and  I  know  it. 

40  I  pass  death  with  the  dying,  and  birth  with  the  new- 

wash'd  babe,  and  am  not  contain'd  between  my 

hai  and  boots  ; 
And  peruse  manifold  objects,  no  two  alike,  and  every 

one  good ; 
The  earth  good,  and  the  stars  good,  and  their  adjuncts 

all  good. 

41  I  am  not  an  earth,  nor  an  adjunct  of  an  earth  ; 

I  am  the  mate  and  companion  of  people,  all  just  as 

immortal  and  fathomless  as  myself  ; 
(They  do  not  know  how  immortal,  but  I  know.) 


36  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

42  Every  kind  for  itself  and  its  own — for  me  mine,  male 

and  female  ; 
For  me  those   that  have  been  boys,   and   that  love 

women  ; 
For  me-  the  man  that  is  proud,  and  feels  how  it  stings 

to  be  slighted ; 
For  me   the   sweet-heart   and  the   old  maid — for  me 

mothers,  and  the  mothers  of  mothers ; 
For  me  lips  that  have  smiled,  eyes  that  have  shed  tears  ; 
For  me  children,  and  the  begetters  of  children. 

43  Undrape !  you  are  not  guilty  to  me,  nor  stale,  nor 

discarded  ; 
I  see  through  the  broadcloth  and  gingham,  whether 

or  no  ; 
And  am   around,  tenacious,  acquisitive,  tireless,   and 

cannot  be  shaken  away. 

8 

44  The  little  one  sleeps  in  its  cradle  ; 

I  lift  the   gauze,  and  look  a  long  time,  and  silently 
brush  away  flies  with  my  hand. 

46  The  youngster  and  the  red-faced  girl  turn  aside  up 

the  bushy  hill  ; 
I  peeringly  view  them  from  the  top. 

46  The  suicide  sprawls  on  the  bloody  floor  of  the  bed 

room; 

I  witness  the   corpse  with  its  dabbled  hair — I  note 
where  the  pistol  has  fallen. 

47  The  blab  of  the  pave,  the  tires  of  carts,  shift  of  boot- 

soles,  talk  of  the  promenaders ; 
The  heavy  omnibus,  the  driver  with  his  interrogating 

thumb,  the   clank  of  the   shod  horses  on   the 

granite  floor ; 
The  snow-sleighs,  the  clinking,  shouted  jokes,  pelts  of 

snow-balls ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  3? 

The  hurrahs  for  popular  favorites,  the  fury  of  rous'd 

mobs  ; 
The  flap  of  the  curtain'd  litter,  a  sick  man  inside,  borne 

to  the  hospital ; 
The  meeting  of  enemies,  the  sudden  oath,  the  blows 

and  fall  ; 
The  excited  crowd,  the  policeman  with  his  star,  quickly 

working  his  passage  to  the  centre  of  the  crowd  ; 
The  impassive  stones  that  receive  and  return  so  many 

echoes ; 

What  groans  of  over-fed  or  half-starv'd  who  fall  sun- 
struck,  or  in  fits ; 
What   exclamations   of  women   taken   suddenly,  who 

hurry  home  and  give  birth  to  babes  ; 
What  living   and  buried   speech  is   always  vibrating 

here — what  howls  restrain'd  by  decorum  ; 
Arrests  of    criminals,  slights,  adulterous   offers  made, 

acceptances,  rejections  with  convex  lips  ; 
I  mind   them   or  the   show  or  resonance  of  them — I 

come,  and  I  depart. 

9 

48  The  big  doors  of  the  country  barn  stand  open  and 

ready ; 

The  dried  grass  of  the  harvest-time  loads -the  slow- 
drawn  wagon  ; 

The  clear  light  plays  on  the  brown  gray  and  green 
intertinged ; 

The  armfuls  are  pack'd  to  the  sagging  mow. 

49  I  am  there — I  help — I  came  stretch'd  atop  of   the 

load ; 

I  felt  its  soft  jolts — one  leg  reclined  on  the  other ; 
I  jump  from  the  cross-beams,  and  seize  the  clover  and 

timothy, 
And  roll  head  over  heels,  and  tangle  my  hair  full  of 

wisps. 

10 
80  Alone,  far  in  the  wilds  and  mountains,  I  hunt, 


38  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Wandering,  amazed  at  my  own  lightness  and  glee  ; 

In  the  late  afternoon  choosing  a  safe  spot  to  pass  the 

night, 

Kindling  a  fire  and  broiling  the  fresh-kill' d  game  ; 
Falling  asleep  on  the  gather'd  leaves,  with  my  dog  and 

gun  by  my  side. 

61  The  Yankee  clipper  is  under  her  sky-sails — she  cuts 

the  sparkle  and  scud  ; 
My  eyes  settle  the  land — I  bend  at  her  prow,  or  shout 

joyously  from  the  deck. 

82  The  boatmen  and  clam-diggers  arose  early  and  stopt 

for  me  ; 
I  tuck'd  my  trowser-ends  in  my  boots,  and  went  and 

had  a  good  time  : 
(You  should  have  been  with  us  that  day  round  the 

chowder-kettle.) 

63  I  saw  the  marriage  of  the  trapper  in  the  open  air  in 

the  far  west — the  bride  was  a  red  girl ; 
Her  father  and  his  friends  sat  near,  cross-legged  and 

dumbly  smoking — they  had  moccasins  to  their 

feet,  and  large  thick  blankets  hanging  from  their 

shoulders  ; 
On  a  bank  lounged  the  trapper — he  was  drest  mostly  in 

skins — his  luxuriant  beard  and  curls  protected 

his  neck — he  held  his  bride  by  the  hand  ; 
She  had  long  eyelashes — her  head  was  bare — her  coarse 

straight  locks  descended  upon  her  voluptuous 

limbs  and  reach'd  to  her  feet. 

64  The  runaway  slave  came  to  my  house  and  stopt  out 

side  ; 

I  heard  his  motions  crackling  the  twigs  of  the  wood 
pile  ; 

Through  the  swung  half-door  of  the  kitchen  I  saw  him 
limpsy  and  weak, 

And  went  where  he  sat  on  a  log,  and  led  him  in  and 
assured  him, 


WALT  WHITMAN.  39 

And   brought  water,  and  filTd  a  tub  for  his  sweated 

body  and  bruis'd  feet, 
And  gave  him  a  room  that  enter'd  from  my  own,  and 

gave  him  some  coarse  clean  clothes, 
And  remember  perfectly  well  his  revolving  eyes  and  his 

awkwardness, 
And  remember  putting  plasters  on  the  galls  of  his  neck 

and  ankles  ; 
He  staid  with  me  a  week  before  he  was  recuperated  and 

pass'd  north  ; 
(I  had  him  sit  next  me  at  table — my  fire-lock  lean'd  in 

the  corner.) 

11 

65  Twenty-eight  young  men  bathe  by  the  shore  ; 
Twenty-eight  young  men,  and  all  so  friendly  : 
Twenty-eight  years  of  womanly  life,  and  all  so  lone 
some. 

56  She  owns  the  fine  house  by  the  rise  of  the  bank  ; 
She  hides,  handsome  and  richly  drest,  aft  the  blinds  of 

the  window. 

57  Which  of  the  young  men  does  she  like  the  best  ? 
Ah,  the  homeliest  of  them  is  beautiful  to  her. 

68  Where  are  you  off  to,  lady  ?  for  I  see  you ; 

You  splash  in  the  water  there,  yet  stay  stock  still  in 
your  room. 

69  Dancing  and  laughing   along  the  beach  came   the 

twenty-ninth  bather  ; 

The  rest  did  not  see  her,  but  she  saw  them  and  loved 
them. 

60  The  beards  of  the  young  men  glisten'd  with  wet,  it 

ran  from  their  long  hair  : 
Little  streams  pass'd  ah1  over  their  bodies. 

61  An  unseen  hand  also  pass'd  over  their  bodies  ; 

It  descended  tremblingly  from  their  temples  and  ribs. 


40  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

62  The  young  men  float  on  their  backs — their  white  bel 

lies  bulge  to  the  sun — they  do  not  ask  who  seizes 

fast  to  them  ; 
They  do  not  know  who  puffs  and  declines  with  pendant 

and  bending  arch ; 
They  do  not  think  whom  they  souse  with  spray. 

12 

63  The   butcher-boy  puts    off   his    killing    clothes,   or 

sharpens  his  knife  at  the  stall  in  the  market  ; 
I  loiter,  enjoying   his   repartee,  and  his   shuffle   and 
break-down. 

64  Blacksmiths  with  grimed  and  hairy  chests  environ 

the  anvil ; 

Each  has  his  main-sledge — they  are  all  out — (there  is 
a  great  heat  in  the  fire.) 

65  From  the   cinder-strew'd  threshold   I  follow  their 

movements  ; 
The  lithe  sheer  of  their  waists  plays  even  with  their 

massive  arms  ; 
Over-hand  the  hammers  swing — over-hand  so  slow — 

over-hand  so  sure  : 
They  do  not  hasten — each  man  hits  in  his  place. 

13 

66  The  negro  holds  firmly  the  reins  of  his  four  horses 

— the  block  swags  underneath  on  its  tied-over 

chain ; 
The  negro  that  drives  the  dray  of  the  stone-yard — 

steady  and  tall  he  stands,  pois'd  on  one  leg  on 

the  string-piece  ; 
His  blue  shirt  exposes  his  ample  neck  and  breast,  and 

loosens  over  his  hip-band  ; 
His  glance  is  calm  and  commanding — he  tosses  the 

slouch  of  his  hat  away  from  his  forehead  ; 
The  sun  falls  on  his  crispy  hair  and  moustache — falls 

on  the  black  of  his  polish'd  and  perfect  limbs. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  41 

67  I  behold  the  picturesque  giant,  and  love  him — and  I 

do  not  stop  there  ; 
I  go  with  the  team  also. 

68  In  me  the  caresser  of  life  wherever  moving — back 

ward  as  well  as  forward  slueing  ; 
To  niches  aside  and  junior  bending. 

69  Oxen  that  rattle  the  joke  and  chain,  or  halt  in  the 

leafy  shade!  what  is  that  you  express  in  your 
eyes? 

It  seems  to  me  more  than  all  the  print  I  have  read  in 
my  life. 

70  My  tread  scares  the  wood-drake  and  wood-duck,  on 

my  distant  and  day-long  ramble  ; 
They  rise  together — they  slowly  circle  around. 

71  I  believe  in  those  wing'd  purposes, 

And  acknowledge  red,  yellow,  white,  playing  within  me, 
And  consider  green  and  violet,  and  the  tufted  crown, 

intentional ; 
And  do  not  call  the  tortoise  unworthy  because  she  is 

not  something  else  ; 
And  the  jay  in  the  woods  never  studied  the  gamut,  yet 

trills  pretty  well  to  me  ; 
And  the  look  of  the  bay  mare  shames  silliness  out  of 

me. 


14 

72  The  wild  gander  leads  his  flock  through  the  cool 

night ; 
Ya-honk !  he  says,  and  sounds  it  down  to  me  like  an 

invitation  ; 
(The  pert  may  suppose  it  meaningless,  but  I  listen 

close  ; 
I  find  its  purpose  and  place  up  there  toward  the  wintry 

sky.) 


42  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

73  The  sharp-hoof  d  moose  of  the  north,  the  cat  on  the 

house-sill,  the  chickadee,  the  prairie-dog, 
The  litter  of  the  grunting  sow  as  they  tug  at  her  teats, 
The  brood  of  the  turkey-hen,  and  she  with  her  half- 
spread  wings  ; 
I  see  in  them  and  myself  the  same  old  law. 

74  The  press  of  my  foot  to  the  earth  springs  a  hundred 

affections  ; 
They  scorn  the  best  I  can  do  to  relate  them. 

75  I  am  enamour'd  of  growing  out-doors, 

Of  men  that  live  among  cattle,  or  taste  of  the  ocean  or 

woods, 
Of  the  builders  and  steerers  of  ships,  and  the  wielders 

of  axes  and  man  Is,  and  the  drivers  of  horses  ; 
I  can  eat  and  sleep  with  them  week  in  and  week  out. 

76  What  is  commonest,  cheapest,  nearest,  easiest,  is  Me ; 
Me  going  in  for  my  chances,  spending  for  vast  returns  ; 
Adorning  myself  to  bestow  myself  on  the  first  that  will 

take  me  ; 

Not  asking  the  sky  to  come  down  to  my  good  will ; 
Scattering  it  freely  forever. 

15 

77  The  pure  contralto  sings  in  the  organ  loft ; 

The  carpenter  dresses  his  plank — the  tongue  of  his 

foreplane  whistles  its  wild  ascending  lisp  ; 
The  married  and  unmarried  children  ride  home  to  their 

Thanksgiving  dinner  ; 
The  pilot  seizes  the  king-pin — he  heaves  down  with  a 

strong  arm  ; 
The  mate  stands  braced  in  the  whale-boat — lance  and 

harpoon  are  ready  ; 

The  duck-shooter  walks  by  silent  and  cautious  stretches  ; 
The  deacons  are  ordain'd  with  cross'd  hands  at  the 

altar ; 
The  spinning-girl  retreats  and  advances  to  the  hum  of 

the  big  wheel ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  43 

The  farmer  stops  by  the  bars,  as  he  walks  on  a  First- 
day  loafe,  and  looks  at  the  oats  and  rye  ; 

The  lunatic  is  carried  at  last  to  the  asylum,  a  confirm'd 
case, 

(He  will  never  sleep  any  more  as  he  did  in  the  cot  in 
his  mother's  bed-room ;) 

The  jour  printer  with  gray  head  and  gaunt  jaws  works 
at  his  case, 

He  turns  his  quid  of  tobacco,  while  his  eyes  blurr  with 
the  manuscript ; 

The  malform'd  limbs  are  tied  to  the  surgeon's  table, 

What  is  removed  drops  horribly  in  a  pail ; 

The  quadroon  girl  is  sold  at  the  auction-stand — the 
drunkard  nods  by  the  bar-room  stove  ; 

The  machinist  rolls  up  his  sleeves — the  policeman  trav 
els  his  beat — the  gate-keeper  marks  who  pass  ; 

The  young  fellow  drives  the  express-wagon — (I  love 
him,  though  I  do  not  know  him  ;) 

The  half-breed  straps  on  his  light  boots  to  compete  in 
the  race  ;  v 

The  western  turkey-shooting  draws  old  and  young — 
some  lean  on  their  rifles,  some  sit  on  logs, 

Out  from  the  crowd  steps  the  marksman,  takes  his 
position,  levels  his  piece  ; 

The  groups  of  newly-come  immigrants  cover  the  wharf 
or  levee  ; 

As  the  woolly-pates  hoe  in  the  sugar-field,  the  overseer 
views  them  from  his  saddle  ; 

The  bugle  calls  in  the  ball-room,  the  gentlemen  run 
for  their  partners,  the  dancers  bow  to  each 
other ; 

The  youth  lies  awake  in  the  cedar-roof 'd  garret,  and 
harks  to  the  musical  rain  ; 

The  Wolverine  sets  traps  on  the  creek  that  helps  fill  the 
Huron; 

The  squaw,  wrapt  in  her  yellow-hemm'd  cloth,  is  offer 
ing  moccasins  and  bead-bags  for  sale  ; 

The  connoisseur  peers  along  the  exhibition-gallery  with 
half-shut  eyes  bent  sideways  ; 

As  the  deck-hands  make  fast  the  steamboat,  the  plank 
is  thrown  for  the  shore-going  passengers  ; 


44  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

The  young  sister  holds  out  the  skein,  while  the  elder 
sister  winds  it  off  in  a  ball,  and  stops  now  and 
then  for  the  knots  ; 

The  one-year  wife  is  recovering  and  happy,  having  a 
week  ago  borne  her  first  child  ; 

The  clean-hair'd  Yankee  girl  works  with  her  sewing- 
machine,  or  in  the  factory  or  mill ; 

The  nine  months'  gone  is  in  the  parturition  chamber, 
her  faintness  and  pains  are  advancing  ; 

The  paving-man  leans  on  his  two-handed  rammer — the 
reporter's  lead  flies  swiftly  over  the  note-book — 
the  sign-painter  is  lettering  with  red  and  gold  ; 

The  canal  boy  trots  on  the  tow-path — the  book-keeper 
counts  at  his  desk — the  shoemaker  waxes  his 
thread ; 

The  conductor  beats  time  for  the  band,  and  all  the  per 
formers  follow  him  ; 

The  child  is  baptized — the  convert  is  making  his  first 
professions  ; 

The  regatta  is  spread  on  the  bay — the  race  is  begun — 
how  the  white  sails  sparkle ! 

The  drover,  watching  his  drove,  sings  out  to  them  that 
would  stray  ; 

The  pedler  sweats  with  his  pack  on  his  back,  (the  pur 
chaser  higgling  about  the  odd  cent ;) 

The  camera  and  plate  are  prepared,  the  lady  must  sit 
for  her  daguerreotype ; 

The  bride  unrumples  her  white  dress,  the  minute-hand 
of  the  clock  moves  slowly  ; 

The  opium-eater  reclines  with  rigid  head  and  just- 
open'd  lips  ; 

The  prostitute  draggles  her  shawl,  her  bonnet  bobs  on 
her  tipsy  and  pimpled  neck  ; 

The  crowd  laugh  at  her  blackguard  oaths,  the  men  jeer 
and  wink  to  each  other  ; 

(Miserable !  I  do  not  laugh  at  your  oaths,  nor  jeer 
you;) 

The  President,  holding  a  cabinet  council,  is  surrounded 
by  the  Great  Secretaries  ; 

On  the  piazza  walk  three  matrons  stately  and  friendly 
with  twined  arms ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  45 

The  crew  of  the  fish-smack  pack  repeated  layers  of  hal 
ibut  in  the  hold ; 

The  Missourian  crosses  the  plains,  toting  his  wares  and 
his  cattle  ; 

As  the  fare -collector  goes  through  the  train,  he  gives 
notice  by  the  jingling  of  loose  change  ; 

The  floor-men  are  laying  the  floor — the  tinners  are 
tinning  the  roof — the  masons  are  calling  for 
mortar  ; 

In  single  file,  each  shouldering  his  hod,  pass  onward 
the  laborers  ; 

Seasons  pursuing  each  other,  the  indescribable  crowd  is 
gathered — it  is  the  Fourth  of  Seventh-month — 
(What  salutes  of  cannon  and  small  arms !) 

Seasons  pursuing  each  other,  the  plougher  ploughs,  the 
mower  mows,  and  the  winter-grain  falls  in  the 
ground ; 

Off  on  the  lakes  the  pike-fisher  watches  and  waits  by 
the  hole  in  the  frozen  surface  ; 

The  stumps  stand  thick  round  the  clearing,  the  squatter 
strikes  deep  with  his  axe  ; 

Flatboatmen  make  fast,  towards  dusk,  near  the  cotton- 
wood  or  pekan-trees ; 

Coon-seekers  go  through  the  regions  of  the  Red  river, 
or  through  those  drain'd  by  the  Tennessee,  or 
through  those  of  the  Arkansaw  ; 

Torches  shine  in  the  dark  that  hangs  on  the  Chatta- 
hooche  or  Altamahaw  ; 

Patriarchs  sit  at  supper  with  sons  and  grandsons  and 
great-grandsons  around  them  ; 

In  walls  of  adobie,  in  canvas  tents,  rest  hunters  and 
trappers  after  their  day's  sport ; 

The  city  sleeps,  and  the  country  sleeps  ; 

The  living  sleep  for  their  time,  the  dead  sleep  for  their 
time ; 

The  old  husband  sleeps  by  his  wife,  and  the  young  hus 
band  sleeps  by  his  wife  ; 

And  these  one  and  all  tend  inward  to  me,  and  I  tend 
outward  to  them  ; 

And  such  as  it  is  to  be  of  these,  more  or  less,  I  am. 


46  LEAVES  OP  GKASS. 

16 

78  I  am  of  old  and  young,  of  the  foolish  as  much  as  the 

wise  ; 

Kegardless  of  others,  ever  regardful  of  others, 

Maternal  as  well  as  paternal,  a  child  as  well  as  a  man, 

Stuff 'd  with  the  stuff  that  is  coarse,  and  stuff 'd  with  the 
stuff*  that  is  fine  ; 

One  of  the  Great  Nation,  the  nation  of  many  nations, 
the  smallest  the  same,  and  the  largest  the  same ; 

A  southerner  soon  as  a  northerner — a  planter  non 
chalant  and  hospitable,  down  by  the  Oconee  I 
live ; 

A  Yankee,  bound  my  own  way,  ready  for  trade,  my 
joints  the  limberest  joints  on  earth,  and  the  stern 
est  joints  on  earth ; 

A  Kentuckian,  walking  the  vale  of  the  Elkhorn,  in  my 
deer-skin  leggings — a  Louisianian  or  Georgian  ; 

A  boatman  over  lakes  or  bays,  or  along  coasts — a 
Hoosier,  Badger,  Buckeye ; 

At  home  on  Kanadian  snow-shoes,  or  up  in  the  bush,  or 
with  fishermen  off  Newfoundland  ; 

At  home  in  the  fleet  of  ice-boats,  sailing  with  the  rest 
and  tacking ; 

At  home  on  the  hills  of  Vermont,  or  in  the  woods  of 
Maine,  or  the  Texan  ranch  ; 

Comrade  of  Californians — comrade  of  free  north-west 
erners,  (loving  their  big  proportions  ;)  , 

Comrade  of  raftsmen  and  coalmen — comrade  of  all  who 
shake  hands  and  welcome  to  drink  and  meat ; 

A  learner  with  the  simplest,  a  teacher  of  the  thought- 
fullest  ; 

A  novice  beginning,  yet  experient  of  myriads  of  sea 
sons  ; 

Of  every  hue  and  caste  am  I,  of  every  rank  and  reli 
gion ; 

A  farmer,  mechanic,  artist,  gentleman,  sailor,  quaker  ; 

A  prisoner,  fancy-man,  rowdy,  lawyer,  physician,  priest. 

79  I  resist  anything  better  than  my  own  diversity  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  47 

I  breathe  the  air,  but  leave  plenty  after  me, 
And  am  not  stuck  up,  and  am  in  my  place. 

0  (The  moth  and  the  fish-eggs  are  in  their  place  ; 

The  suns  I  see,  and  the  suns  I  cannot  see,  are  in  their 

place ; 
The  palpable  is  in  its  place,  and  the  impalpable  is  in  its 

place.) 

17 

81  These  are  the  thoughts  of   all  men  in  all  ages  and 

lands — they  are  not  original  with  me ; 
If  they  are  not  yours  as  much  as  mine,  they  are  nothing, 

or  next  to  nothing  ; 
If  they  are  not  the  riddle,  and  the  untying  of  the  riddle, 

they  are  nothing  ; 
If  they  are  not  just  as  close  as  they  are  distant,  they  are 

nothing. 

82  This  is  the  grass  that  grows  wherever  the  land  is,  and 

the  water  is ; 
This  is  the  common  air  that  bathes  the  globe. 

18 

83  With  music  strong  I  come — with  my  cornets  and  my 

drums, 

1  play  not  marches  for  accepted  victors  only — I  play 

great  marches  for  conquer'd  and  slain  persons. 

84  Have  you  heard  that  it  was  good  to  gain  the  day  ? 

I  also  say  it  is  good  to  fall — battles  are  lost  in  the  same 
spirit  in  which  they  are  won. 

85  I  beat  and  pound  for  the  dead  ; 

I  blow  through  my  embouchures  my  loudest  and  gayest 
for  them. 

86  Vivas  to  those  who  have  fail'd ! 

And  to  those  whose  war-vessels  sank  in  the  sea ! 
And  to  those  themselves  who  sank  in  the  sea ! 


48  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

And  to  all  generals  that  lost  engagements !  and  all  over 
come  heroes ! 

And  the  numberless  unknown  heroes,  equal  to  the 
greatest  heroes  known. 

19 

87  This  is  the  meal  equally  set — this  is  the  meat  for 

natural  hunger  ; 

It  is  for  the  wicked  just  the  same  as  the  righteous — I 
make  appointments  with  all ; 

I  will  not  have  a  single  person  slighted  or  left  away  ; 

The  kept-woman,  sponger,  thief,  are  hereby  invited  ; 

The  heavy- lipp'd  slave  is  invited — the  venerealee  is  in 
vited  : 

There  shall  be  no  difference  between  them  and  the  rest. 

88  This  is  the  press  of  a  bashful  hand — this  is  the  float 

and  odor  of  hair  ; 

This  is  the  touch  of  my  lips  to  yours — this  is  the  mur 
mur  of  yearning ; 

This  is  the  far-off  depth  and  height  reflecting  my  own 
face  ; 

This  is  the  thoughtful  merge  of  myself,  and  the  outlet 


9  Do  you  guess  I  have  some  intricate  purpose  ? 
"Well,  I  have — for  the  Fourth-month  showers  have,  and 
the  mica  on  the  side  of  a  rock  has. 

90  Do  you  take  it  I  would  astonish  ? 

Does  the  daylight  astonish?     Does  the  early  redstart, 

twittering  through  the  woods? 
Do  I  astonish  more  than  they? 

91  This  hour  I  tell  things  in  confidence  ; 

I  might  not  tell  everbody,  but  I  will  tell  you. 

20 

2  Who  goes  there  ?  hankering,  gross,  mystical,  nude ; 
How  is  it  I  extract  strength  from  the  beef  I  eat  ? 


WALT  WHITMAN.  49 

93  What  is  a  man,  anyhow?  What  am  I?  WTiat  are  you? 

94  All  I  mark  as  my  own,  you  shall  offset  it  with  your  own; 
Else  it  were  time  lost  listening  to  me. 

95  I  do  not  snivel  that  snivel  the  world  over, 

That  months  are  vacuums,  and  the  ground  but  wallow 

and  filth ; 
That  life  is  a  suck  and  a  sell,  and  nothing  remains  at 

the  end  but  threadbare  crape,  and  tears. 

96  Whimpering   and   truckling  fold  with  powders  for 

invalids — conformity  goes  to  the  fourth-remov'd ; 
I  wear  my  hat  as  I  please,  indoors  or  out. 

97  Why  should  I  pray  ?     Why  should  I  venerate  and  be 

ceremonious? 

98  Having  pried  through  the  strata,  analyzed  to  a  hair, 

counsell'd  with  doctors,  and  calculated  close, 
I  find  no  sweeter  fat  than  sticks  to  my  own  bones. 

99  In  all  people  I  see  myself — none  more,  and  not  one  a 

barley-corn  less ; 
And  the  good  or  bad  I  say  of  myself,  I  say  of  them. 

10  And  I  know  I  am  solid  and  sound ; 

To  me  the  converging  objects  of  the  universe  perpetu 
ally  flow ; 

All  are  written  to  me,  and  I  must  get  what  the  writing 
means. 

101  I  know  I  am  deathless ; 

I  know  this  orbit  of  mine  cannot  be  swept  by  the  car 
penter's  compass ; 

I  know  I  shall  not  pass  like  a  child's  carlacue  cut  with 
a  burnt  stick  at  night. 

102  I  know  I  am  august ; 

3 


50  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  do  not  trouble  my  spirit  to  vindicate  itself  or  be 

understood ; 

I  see  that  the  elementary  laws  never  apologize  ; 
(I  reckon  I  behave  no  prouder  than  the  level  I  plant 

my  house  by,  after  all.) 

103 1  exist  as  I  am — that  is  enough ; 

If  no  other  in  the  world  be  aware,  I  sit  content ; 

And  if  each  and  all  be  aware,  I  sit  content. 

104  One  world  is  aware,  and  by  far  the  largest  to  me, 

and  that  is  myself ; 
And  whether  I   come   to   my  own  to-day,  or  in  ten 

thousand  or  ten  million  years, 
I  can  cheerfully  take  it  now,  or  wifch  equal  cheerfulness 

I  can  wait. 

105  My  foothold  is  tenon'd  and  mortis'd  in  granite  ; 
I  laugh  at  what  you  call  dissolution  ; 

And  I  know  the  amplitude  of  time. 

21 

106  I  am  the  poet  of  the  Body  ; 
And  I  am  the  poet  of  the  Soul. 

107  The  pleasures  of  heaven  are  with  me,  and  the  pains 

of  hell  are  with  me  ; 

The  first  I  graft  and  increase  upon  myself — the  latter  I 
translate  into  a  new  tongue. 

108  I  am  the  poet  of  the  woman  the  same  as  the  man  ; 
And  I  say  it  is  as  great  to  be  a  woman  as  to  be  a  man ; 
And  I  say  there  is  nothing  greater  than  the  mother  of 

men. 

109  I  chant  the  chant  of  dilation  or  pride  ; 

We  have  had  ducking  and  deprecating  about  enough ; 
I  show  that  size  is  only  development. 

0  Have  you  outstript  the  rest?     Are  you  the  Presi 
dent? 


WALT  WHITMAN.  51 

It  is  a  trifle — they  will  more  than  arrive  there,  every 
one,  and  still  pass  on. 

111  I  am  he   that  walks  with  the  tender  and  growing 

night ; 
I  call  to  the  earth  and  sea,  half-held  by  the  night. 

112  Press  close,  bare-bosom'd  night  I     Press  close,  mag 

netic,  nourishing  night ! 

Night  of  south  winds  !  night  of  the  large  few  stars ! 
Still,  nodding  night !  mad,  naked,  summer  night. 

113  Smile,  O  voluptuous,  cool-breath'd  earth ! 
Earth  of  the  slumbering  and  liquid  trees ; 

Earth   of  departed   sunset!    earth   of  the  mountains, 

misty-topt ! 
Earth  of  the  vitreous  pour  of  the  full  moon,  just  tinged 

with  blue ! 

Earth  of  shine  and  dark,  mottling  the  tide  of  the  river ! 
Earth  of  the  limpid  gray  of  clouds,  brighter  and  clearer 

for  my  sake ! 
Far-swooping    elbow'd    earth !    rich,    apple-blossom'd 

earth ! 
Smile,  for  your  lover  comes  ! 

114  Prodigal,  you  have  given  me  love !   Therefore  I  to 

you  give  love ! 

0  unspeakable,  passionate  love  ! 

22 

116  You  sea  !   I  resign  myself  to  you  also — I  guess  what 
you  mean ; 

1  behold  from  the  beach  your  crooked  inviting  fingers  ; 
I  believe  you  refuse  to  go  back  without  feeling  of  me  ; 
We  must  have  a  turn  together — I  undress — hurry  me 

out  of  sight  of  the  land  ; 
Cushion  me  soft,  rock  me  in  billowy  drowse  ; 
Dash  me  with  amorous  wet — I  can  repay  you. 


116 


Sea  of  stretch'd  ground-swells  ! 


52  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Sea  breathing  broad  and  convulsive  breaths  ! 

Sea  of  the  brine  of  life  !  sea  of  unshovelTd  yet  always- 

ready  graves  ! 
Howler  and  scooper  of  storms  !  capricious  and  dainty 

sea! 
I  am  integral  with  you  —  I  too  am  of  one  phase,  and  of 

all  phases. 

117  Partaker  of  influx  and  efflux  I  —  extoller  of  hate  and 

conciliation  ; 

Extoller  of  amies,  and  those  that  sleep  in  each  others' 
arms. 

118  I  am  he  attesting  sympathy  ; 

(Shall  I  make  my  list  of  things  in  the  house,  and  skip 
the  house  that  supports  them  ?) 

119  I  am  not  the  poet  of  goodness  only  —  I  do  not  decline 

to  be  the  poet  of  wickedness  also. 

120  Washes  and  razors  for  foofoos  —  for  me  freckles  and 

a  bristling  beard. 


blurt  is  this  about  virtue  and  about  vice  ? 
Evil  propels  me,  and  reform  of  evil  propels  me  —  I  stand 

indifferent  ; 

My  gait  is  no  fault-finder's  or  rejecter's  gait  ; 
I  moisten  the  roots  of  all  that  has  grown. 

122  Did  you  fear  some  scrofula  out  of  the  unflagging 

pregnancy  ? 

Did  you  guess  the  celestial  laws  are  yet  to  be  work'o! 
over  and  rectified  ? 

123  I  find  one  side  a  balance,  and  the  antipodal  side  a 

balance  ; 

Soft  doctrine  as  steady  help  as  stable  doctrine  ; 
Thoughts  and  deeds  of  the  present,  our  rouse  and  early 

start. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  53 

m  "phis  minute  that  comes  to  me  over  the  past  decil- 

lions, 
There  is  no  better  than  it  and  now. 

125  What  behaved  well  in  the  past,  or  behaves  well  to 

day,  is  not  such  a  wonder  ; 

The  wonder  is,  always  and  always,  how  there  can  be  a 
mean  man  or  an  infidel. 

23 

126  Endless  unfolding  of  words  of  agtes  ! 

And  mine  a  word  of  the  modern — the  word  En-Masse. 

127  A  word  of  the  faith  that  never  balks  ; 

Here  or  henceforward,  it  is  all  the  same  to  me — I 
accept  Time,  absolutely. 

128  It  alone  is  without  flaw — it  rounds  and  completes 

all; 
That  mystic,  baffling  wonder  I  love,  alone  completes 

!9  I  accept  reality,  and  dare  not  question  it ; 
Materialism  first  and  last  imbuing. 

130  Hurrah  for  positive  science !  long  live  exact  demon 

stration  ! 

Fetch  stonecrop,  mixt  with  cedar  and  branches  "of 
lilac  ; 

This  is  the  lexicographer — this  the  chemist — this  made 
a  grammar  of  the  old  cartouches ; 

These  mariners  put  the  ship  through  dangerous  un 
known  seas  ; 

This  is  the  geologist — this  works  with  the  scalpel — and 
this  is  a  mathematician. 

131  Gentlemen  !  to  you  the  first  honors  always  : 

Your  facts  are  useful  and  real — and  yet  they  are  not 

my  dwelling  ; 
(I  but  enter  by  them  to  an  area  of  my  dwelling.) 


54  LEAVES  OF  G-RASS. 

132  Less  the  reminders  of  properties  told,  my  words  ; 
And  more  the  reminders,  they,  of  life  untold,  and  of 

freedom  and  extrication, 
And  make  short  account  of  neuters  and  geldings,  and 

favor  men  and  women  fully  equipt, 
And  beat  the  gong  of  revolt,  and  stop  with  fugitives, 

and  them  that  plot  and  conspire. 

24' 

133  Walt  Whitman  am  I,  a  Kosmos,  of  mighty  Manhat 

tan  the  son^ 
Turbulent,    fleshy   and  sensual,  eating,   drinking   and 

breeding  ; 
No  sentimentalist — no  stander  above  men  and  women, 

or  apart  from  them  ; 
No  more  modest  than  immodest. 

4  Unscrew  the  locks  from  the  doors ! 
Unscrew  the  doors  themselves  from  their  jambs ! 

135  Whoever  degrades  another  degrades  me ; 

And  whatever  is  done  or  said  returns  at  last  to  me. 

ise  Through   me   the   afflatus   surging    and    surging — 
through  me  the  current  and  index. 

137  I  speak  the  pass-word  primeval — I  give  the  sign  of 

democracy ; 
By  God !  I  will  accept  nothing  which  all  cannot  have 

their  counterpart  of  on  the  same  terms. 

iss  Through  me  many  long  dumb  voices  ; 
Voices  of  the  interminable  generations  of  slaves ; 
Voices  of  prostitutes,  and  of  deform'd  persons  ; 
Voices  of  the   diseased  and  despairing,  and  of  thieves 

and  dwarfs ; 

Voices  of  cycles  of  preparation  and  accretion, 
And   of  the   threads   that  connect  the  stars — and  of 

wombs,  and  of  the  father-stuff, 
And  of  the  rights  of  them  the  others  are  down  upon ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  55 

Of  the  trivial,  flat,  foolish,  despised, 

Fog  in  the  air,  beetles  rolling  balls  of  dung. 

9  Through  me  forbidden  voices  ; 
Voices  of  sexes  and  lusts — voices  veil'd,  and  I  remove 

the  veil ; 
Voices  indecent,  by  me  clarified  and  transfigur'd. 

140  I  do  not  press  my  fingers  across  my  mouth  ; 

I  keep  as  delicate  around  the  bowels  as  around  the 

head  and  heart ; 
Copulation  is  no  more  rank  to  me  than  death  is. 

141 1  believe  in  the  flesh  and  the  appetites  ; 
Seeing,  hearing,   feeling,  are  miracles,  and  each  part 
and  tag  of  me  is  a  miracle. 

12  Divine  am  I  inside  and  out,  and  I  make  holy  what 

ever  I  touch  or  am  touch'd  from  ; 
The  scent  of  these  arm-pits,  aroma  finer  than  prayer  ; 
This  head   more   than   churches,   bibles,   and   afi   the 

creeds. 

13  If  I  worship  one  thing  more  than  another,  it  shall 

be  the  spread  of  my  own  body,  or  any  part  of  it. 

144  Translucent  mould  of  me,  it  shall  be  you ! 
Shaded  ledges  and  rests,  it  shall  be  you ! 
Firm  masculine  colter,  it  shall  be  you. 

145  Whatever  goes  to  the  tilth  of  me,  it  shall  be  you ! 
You  my  rich  blood !  Your  milky  stream,  pale  stoppings 

of  my  life. 


146  Breast  that  presses  against  other  breasts,  it  shall  be 

you! 
My  brain,  it  shall  be  your  occult  convolutions. 


Eoot  of  wash'd  sweet  flag!   timorous  pond-snipe! 
nest  of  guarded  duplicate  eggs !  it  shall  be  you ! 


56  LEAVES  OP  GRASS. 

Mix'd  tussled  hay  of  head,  beard,  brawn,  it  shall  be 

you! 
Trickling  sap  of  maple  !  fibre  of  manly  wheat  !  it  shall 

be  you  ! 

148  Sun  so  generous,  it  shall  be  you  ! 

Vapors  lighting  and  shading  my  face,  it  shall  be  you  ! 

You  sweaty  brooks  and  dews,  it  shall  be  you  ! 

Winds  whose  soft-tickling  genitals  rub  against  me,  it 

shall  be  you  ! 
Broad,  muscular  fields!    branches  of  live  oak!   loving 

lounger  in  my  winding  paths  !  it  shall  be  you  ! 
Hands  I  have  taken  —  face  I  have  kiss'd  —  mortal  I  have 

ever  touch'd  !  it  shall  be  you. 

149  I  dote  on  myself  —  there  is  that  lot  of  me,  and  all  so 

luscious  ; 
Each  moment,  and  whatever  happens,  thrills  me  with 


150  O  I  am  wonderful! 

I  cannot  tell   how  my  ankles  bend,  nor  whence   the 

cause  of  my  faintest  wish  ; 
Nor  the  cause  of  the  friendship  I  emit,  nor  the  cause 

of  the  friendship  I  take  again. 

151  That  I  walk  up  my  stoop  !  I  pause  to  consider  if  it 

really  be  ; 

A  morning-glory  at  my  window  satisfies  me  more  than 
the  metaphysics  of  books. 

162  To  behold  the  day-break  ! 

The  little  light   fades   the  immense   and   diaphanous 

shadows  ; 
The  air  tastes  good  to  my  palate. 

153  Hefts   of   the  moving  world,  at  innocent  gambols, 

silently  rising,  freshly  exuding, 
Scooting  obliquely  high  and  low. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  57 

154  Something  I  cannot   see  puts  upward   libidinous 

prongs ; 
Seas  of  bright  juice  suffuse  heaven. 

15-  The  earth  by  the  sky  staid  with — the  daily  close  of 

their  junction ; 
The  heav'd  challenge  from  the  east  that  moment  over 

my  head ; 
The   mocking  taunt,  See  then  whether  y<ju   shall  be 

master ! 

25 

56  Dazzling  and  tremendous,  how  quick  the  sun-rise 

would  kill  me, 

If  I  could  not  now  and  always  send  sun-rise  out  of 
me. 

157  We  also  ascend,  dazzling  and  tremendous  as  the 

sun ; 
We  found  our  own,  O  my  Soul,  in  the  calm  and  cool 

of  the  daybreak. 

58  My  voice  goes  after  what  my  eyes  cannot  reach  ; 
With  the  twirl  of  my  tongue  I  encompass  worlds,  and 
volumes  of  worlds. 

159  Speech  is  the  twin  of  my  vision — it  is  unequal  to 

measure  itself  ; 
It  provokes  me  forever  ; 
It   says   sarcastically,    Walt,   you   contain  enough — why 

don't  you  let  it  out,  then  ? 

160  Come  now,  I  will  not  be  tantalized — you  conceive 

too  much  of  articulation. 

161  Do  you  not  know,  O  speech,  how  the  buds  beneath 

you  are  folded  ? 

Waiting  in  gloom,  protected  by  frost ; 
The  dirt  receding  before  my  prophetical  screams  ; 
I  underlying  causes,  to  balance  them  at  last ; 


58  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

My  knowledge  my  live  parts — it  keeping  tally  with  the 

meaning  of  things, 
HAPPINESS — which,  whoever  hears  me,  let  him  or  her  set 

out  in  search  of  this  day. 

162  My  final  merit  I  refuse  you — I  refuse  putting  from 
me  what  I  really  am ; 

Encompass  worlds,  but  never  try  to  encompass  me  ; 

I  crowd  your  sleekest  and  best  by  simply  looking  to 
ward  you. 


and  talk  do  not  prove  me ; 

I  carry  the  plenum  of  proof,  and  everything  else,  in  my 
face; 

With  the  hush  of  my  lips  I  wholly  confound  the  skep 
tic. 

26 

164  I  think  I  will  do  nothing  now  but  listen, 

To  accrue  what  I  hear  into  myself — to  let  sounds  con 
tribute  toward  me. 

165  I  hear  bravuras  of  birds,  bustle  of  growing  wheat, 

gossip   of  flames,    clack   of  sticks   cooking  my 

meals ; 
I  hear  the   sound  I  love,  the  sound  of  the  human 

voice ; 
I  hear  all  sounds  running  together,  combined,  fused  or 

following ; 
Sounds  of  the  city,  and  sounds  out  of  the  city — sounds 

of  the  day  and  night ; 
Talkative  young  ones  to  those  that  like  them — the  loud 

laugh  of  work-people  at  their  meals  ; 
The  angry  base  of  disjointed  friendship — the  faint  tones 

of  the  sick ; 
The  judge  with  hands  tight  to  the  desk,  his  pallid  lips 

pronouncing  a  death-sentence ; 
The  heave'e'yo   of  stevedores  unlading  ships  by  the 

wharves — the  refrain  of  the  anchor-lifters  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  59 

The  ring  of  alarm-bells — the  cry  of  fire — the  whirr  of 
swift-streaking  engines  and  hose-carts,  with  pre 
monitory  tinkles,  and  color'd  lights  ; 

The  steam-whistle — the  solid  roll  of  the  train  of  ap 
proaching  cars  ; 

The  slow-march  play'd  at  the  head  of  the  association, 
marching  two  and  two  ; 

(They  go  to  guard  some  corpse — the  flag-tops  are 
draped  with  black  muslin.) 


56  I  hear  the  violoncello,  ('tis  the  young  man's  heart's 

complaint ;) 
I  hear  the  key*d  cornet — it  glides  quickly  in  through 

my  ears  ; 
It    shakes  mad-sweet    pangs  through  my  belly  and 

breast. 

167  I  hear  the  chorus — it  is  a  grand  opera  ; 
Ah,  this  indeed  is  music  !     This  suits  me. 

168  A  tenor  large  and  fresh  as  the  creation  fills  me  ; 
The  orbic  flex  of  his  mouth  is  pouring  and  filling  me 

full 


169  I  hear  the  train'd  soprano — (what  work,  with  hers, 
is  this  ?) 

The  orchestra  whirls  me  wider  than  Uranus  flies  ; 

It  wrenches  such  ardors  from  me,  I  did  not  know  I 
possess'd  them  ; 

It  sails  me — I  dab  with  bare  feet — they  are  lick'd  by 
the  indolent  waves  ; 

I  am  exposed,  cut  by  bitter  and  angry  hail — I  lose  my 
breath, 

Steep'd  amid  honey'd  morphine,  my  windpipe  throt 
tled  in  fakes  of  death ; 

At  length  let  up  again  to  feel  the  puzzle  of  puzzles, 

And  that  we  call  BEING. 


X 

60  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

'27 

170  To  be,  in  any  form  -what  is  that  ? 

(Round  and  round  we  go,  all  of  us,  and  ever  come  back 
thither ;) 

If  nothing  lay  more  develop'd,  the  quahaug  in  its  cal 
lous  shell  were  enough. 

171  Mine  is  no  callous  shell ; 

I  have  instant  conductors  all  over  me,  whether  I  pass 

or  stop  ; 
They  seize  every  object  and  lead  it  harmlessly  through 

me. 

172  I  merely  stir,  press,  feel  with  my  fingers,  and  am 

happy ; 

To  touch  my  person  to  some  one  else's  is  about  as  much 
as  I  can  stand. 

28 

173  Is  this  then  a  touch  ?    quivering  me  to  a  new  iden 

tity, 

Flames  and  ether  making  a  rush  for  my  veins, 
Treacherous  tip  of  me  reaching  and  crowding  to  help 

them, 
My  flesh  and  blood  playing  out  lightning  to  strike  what 

is  hardly  different  from  myself  ; 
On  all  sides  prurient  provokers  stiffening  my  limbs, 
Straining  the  udder  of  my  heart  for  its  withheld  drip, 
Behaving  licentious  toward  nie,  taking  no  denial, 
Depriving  me  of  my  best,  as  for  a  purpose, 
Unbuttoning  my  clothes,  holding  me  by  the  bare  waist, 
Deluding  my  confusion  with  the  calm  of  the  sunlight 

and  pasture-fields, 

Immodestly  sliding  the  fellow-senses  away, 
They  bribed  to  swap  off  with  touch,  and  go  and  graze 

at  the  edges  of  me  ; 
No  consideration,  no  regard  for  my  draining  strength 

or  my  anger ; 
Fetching  the  rest  of  the  herd  around  to  enjoy  them  a 

while, 


WALT  WHITMAN.  61 

Then  all  uniting  to  stand  on  a  headland  and  worry 
me. 

174  The  sentries  desert  every  other  part  of  me ; 
They  have  left  me  helpless  to  a  red  marauder ; 

They  all  come  to  the  headland,  to  witness  and  assist 
against  me. 

175  I  am  given  up  by  traitors  ; 

I  talk  wildly —I  have  lost  my  wits — I  and  nobody  else 
am  the  greatest  traitor  ; 

I  went  myself  first  to  the  headland — my  own  hands  car 
ried  me  there. 

6  You  villain  touch !    what  are  you  doing  ?   My  breath 

is  tight  in  its  throat ; 
Unclench  your  floodgates !  you  are  too  much  for  me. 

29 

177  Blind,  loving,   wrestling  touch!    sheath'd,   hooded, 

sharp-tooth'd  touch ! 
Did  it  make  you  ache  so,  leaving  me  ? 

178  Parting,  track'd  by  arriving — perpetual  payment  of 

perpetual  loan  ; 

Rich,  showering  rain,  and  recompense  richer  after 
ward. 

179  Sprouts   take   and  accumulate — stand  by  the  curb 

prolific  and  vital : 
Landscapes,  projected,  masculine,  full-sized  and  golden. 

30 

180  All  truths  wait  in  all  things  ; 

They  neither  hasten  their  own  delivery,  nor  resist  it  ; 
They  do  not  need  the  obstetric  forceps  of  the  surgeon  ; 
The  insignificant  is  as  big  to  me  as  any ; 
(What  is  less  or  more  than  a  touch  ?) 


62  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

31  Logic  and  sermons  never  convince  ; 
The  damp  of  the  night  drives  deeper  into  my  soul. 

182  Only  what  proves  itself  to  every  man  and  woman  is 

.  so; 
Only  what  nobody  denies  is  so. 

183  A  minute  and  a  drop  of  me  settle  my  brain ; 

I  believe    the   soggy   clods   shall    become   lovers   and 

lamps, 
And  a  compend  of  compends  is  the  meat  of  a  man  or 

woman, 
And  a  summit  and  flower  there  is  the  feeling  they  have 

for  each  other, 
And  they  are  to  branch  boundlessly  out  of  that  lesson 

until  it  becomes  omninc, 
And  until  every  one  shall  delight  us,  and  we  them. 

31 

184  I  believe  a  leaf  of  grass  is  no  less  than  the  journey- 

work  of  the  stars, 
And  the  pismire  is  equally  perfect,  and  a  grain  of  sand, 

and  the  egg  of  the  wren, 

And  the  tree-toad  is  a  chef-d'oeuvre  for  the  highest, 
And  the  running  blackberry  would  adorn  the  parlors  of 

heaven, 
And  the  narrowest  hinge  in  my  hand  puts  to  scorn  all 

machinery, 
And  the  cow  crunching  with  depress'd  head  surpasses 

any  statue, 
And  a  mouse  is  miracle  enough  to  stagger  sextillions  of 

infidels, 
And  I  could  come  every  afternoon  of  my  life  to  look  at 

the  farmer's  girl  boiling  her  iron  tea-kettle  and 

baking  short-cake. 

186  I  find  I  incorporate  gneiss,  coal,  long-threaded  moss, 

fruits,  grains,  esculent  roots, 
And  am  stucco'd  with  quadrupeds  and  birds  all  over, 


WALT  WHITMAN.  63 

And  have  distanced  what  is  behind  me  for  good  rea 
sons, 
And  call  anything  close  again,  when  I  desire  it. 

186  In  vain  the  speeding  or  shyness  ; 

In  vain  the  plutonic  rocks  send  their  old  heat  against 

my  approach  ; 
In  vain  the  mastodon  retreats  beneath  its  own  powder'd 

bones  ; 
In  vain  objects  stand  leagues  off,  and  assume  manifold 

shapes  ; 
In  vain  the  ocean  settling  in  hollows,  and  the  great 

monsters  lying  low  ; 

In  vain  the  buzzard  houses  herself  with  the  sky  ; 
In  vain  the  snake  slides  through  the  creepers  and  logs  ; 
In  vain  the  elk  takes  to  the  inner  passes  of  the  woods  ; 
In  vain  the  razor-bill'd  auk  sails  far  north  to  Labrador  ; 
I  follow  quickly,  I  ascend  to  the  nest  in  the  fissure  of 

the  cliff. 

32 

187  I  think  I  could  turn  and  live  with  animals,  they  are 

so  placid  and  self-contain'd  ; 
I  stand  and  look  at  them  long  and  long. 

iss  They  do  not  sweat  and  whine  about  their  condition  ; 
They  do  not  lie  awake  in  the  dark  and  weep  for  their 

sins  ; 

They  do  not  make  me  sick  discussing  their  duty  to  God ; 
Not  one  is  dissatisfied — not  one  is  demented  with  the 

mania  of  owning  things  ; 
Not  one  kneels  to  another,  nor  to  his  kind  that  lived 

thousands  of  years  ago  ; 
Not  one  is  respectable  or  industrious  over  the  whole 

earth. 

189  So  they  show  their  relations  to  me,  and  I  accept 

them  ; 
They  bring  me   tokens  of  myself — they  evince  them 

plainly  in  their  possession. 


64  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

190  I  wonder  where  they  get  those  tokens  : 

Did  I  pass  that  way  huge  times  ago,  and  negligently 

drop  them  ? 

Myself  moving  forward  then  and  now  and  forever, 
Gathering  and  showing  more  always  and  with  velocity, 
Infinite  and  omnigenous,  and  the  like  of  these  among 

them  ; 

Not  too  exclusive  toward  the  reachers  of  my  remem 
brancers  ; 

Picking  out  here  one  that  I  love,  and  now  go  with  him 
on  brotherly  terms. 

191  A  gigantic  beauty  of  a  stallion,  fresh  and  responsive 

to  my  caresses, 

Head  high  in  the  forehead,  wide  between  the  ears, 
Limbs  glossy  and  supple,  tail  dusting  the  ground, 
Eyes  full  of  sparkling  wickedness — ears  finely  cut,  flex-* 

ibly  moving. 

192  His  nostrils  dilate,  as  my  heels  embrace  him  ; 

His  well-built  limbs  tremble  with  pleasure,  as  we  race 
around  and  return. 

93  I  but  use  you  a  moment,  then  I  resign  you,  stallion  ; 
Why  do  I  need  your  paces,  when  I  myself  out-gallop 

them? 
Even,  as  I  stand  or  sit,  passing  faster  than  you. 

33 

194  O  swift  wind !  O  space  and  time !  now  I  see  it  is 

true,  what  I  guessed  at ; 
What  I  guess'd  when  I  loaf 'd  on  the  grass  ; 
What  I  guess'd  while  I  lay  alone  in  my  bed, 
And  again  as  I  walk'd  the  beach  under  the  paling  stars 

of  the  morning. 

195  My  ties  and  ballasts  leave  me — I  travel — I  sail — my 

elbows  rest  in  the  sea-gaps  ; 
I  skirt  the  sierras — my  palms  cover  continents  ; 
I  am  afoot  with  my  vision. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  65 

196  By  the  city's  quadrangular  houses — in  log  huts — 

camping  with  lumbermen  ; 
Along  the  ruts  of  the  turnpike — along  the  dry  gulch 

and  rivulet  bed ; 
Weeding  my  onion-patch,  or  hoeing  rows  of  carrots  and 

parsnips — crossing  savannas — trailing  in  forests  ; 
Prospecting — gold-digging — girdling  the  trees  of  a  new 

purchase  ; 
Scorch'd  ankle-deep  by  the  hot  sand — hauling  my  boat 

down  the  shallow  river  ; 
Where  the  panther  walks  to  and  fro  on  a  limb  overhead 

— where  the  buck  turns  furiously  at  the  hunter  ; 
Where  the  rattlesnake  suns  his  flabby  length  on  a  rock 

— where  the  otter  is  feeding  on  fish  ; 
Where  the  alligator  in  his  tough  pimples  sleeps  by  the 

bayou  ; 
Where  the  black  bear  is  searching  for  roots  or  honey — 

where  the  beaver  pats  the  mud  with  his  paddle- 
shaped  tail ; 
Over  the  growing  sugar — over  the  yellow-flowered  cotton 

plant — over  the  rice  in  its  low  moist  field  ; 
Over  the  sharp-peak'd  farm  house,  with  its  scallop'd 

scum  and  slender  shoots  from  the  gutters  ; 
Over  the  western  persimmon — over  the  long-leaVd  corn 

— over  the  delicate  blue-flower  flax  ; 
Over  the  white  and  brown  buckwheat,  a  hummer  and 

buzzer  there  with  the  rest ; 
Over  the  dusky  green  of  the  rye  as  it  ripples  and  shades 

in  the  breeze  ; 

Scaling  mountains,  pulling  myself  cautiously  up,  hold 
ing  on  by  low  scragged  limbs  ; 
Walking  the  path  worn  in  the  grass,  and  beat  through. 

the  leaves  of  the  brush  ; 
Where  the  quail  is  whistling  betwixt  the  woods  and  the 

wheat-lot ; 
Where  the  bat  flies  in  the  Seventh-month  eve — where 

the  great  gold-bug  drops  through  the  dark ; 
Where  flails  keep  time  on  the  barn  floor ; 
Where  the  brook  puts  out  of  the  roots  of  the  old  tree 

and  flows  to  the  meadow ; 


66  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Where  cattle  stand  and  shake  away  flies  with  the  tremu 
lous  shuddering  of  their  hides  ; 

Where  the  cheese-cloth  hangs  in  the  kitchen — where 
andirons  straddle  the  hearth-slab — where  cob 
webs  fall  in  festoons  from  the  rafters ; 

Where  trip-hammers  crash — where  the  press  is  whirling 
its  cylinders ; 

Wherever  the  human  heart  beats  with  terrible  throes 
under  its  ribs ; 

Where  the  pear-shaped  balloon  is  floating  aloft,  (float 
ing  in  it  myself,  and  looking  composedly  down  ;) 

Where  the  life-car  is  drawn  on  the  slip-noose — where 
the  heat  hatches  pale-green  eggs  in  the  dented 
sand; 

Where  the  she-whale  swims  with  her  calf,  and  never 
forsakes  it ; 

Where  the  steam-ship  trails  hind-ways  its  long  pennant 
of  smoke ; 

Where  the  fin  of  the  shark  cuts  like  a  black  chip  out  of 
the  water ; 

Where  the  half-burn'd  brig  is  riding  on  unknown  cur 
rents, 

Where  shells  grow  to  her  slimy  deck — where  the  dead 
are  corrupting  below  ; 

Where  the  dense-starr'd  flag  is  borne  at  the  head  of 
the  regiments ; 

Approaching  Manhattan,  up  by  the  long-stretching 
island ; 

Under  Niagara,  the  cataract  falling  like  a  veil  over  my 
countenance ; 

Upon  a  door-step — upon  the  horse-block  of  hard  wood 
outside ; 

Upon  the  race-course,  or  enjoying  picnics  or  jigs,  or  a 
good  game  of  base-ball ; 

At  he-festivals,  with  blackguard  gibes,  ironical  license, 
bull-dances,  drinking,  laughter ; 

At  the  cider-mill,  tasting  the  sweets  of  the  brown 
mash,  sucking  the  juice  through  a  straw ; 

At  apple-peelings,  wanting  kisses  for  all  the  red  fruit  I 
find; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  67 

At    musters,    beach-parties,    friendly    bees,    huskings, 

house-raisings : 
Where  the  mocking-bird  sounds  his  delicious  gurgles, 

cackles,  screams,  weeps  ; 
Where  the  hay-rick  stands  in  the  barn-yard — where  the 

dry-stalks   are  scattered — where  the  brood-cow 

waits  in  the  hovel ; 
Where  the  bull  advances  to  do  his  masculine  work — 

where  the  stud  to  the  mare — where  the  cock  is 

treading  the  hen  ; 
Where  the  heifers  browse — where  geese  nip  their  food 

with  short  jerks  ; 
Where  sun-down  shadows  lengthen  over  the  limitless 

and  lonesome  prairie ; 
Where  herds  of  buffalo  make  a  crawling  spread  of  the 

square  miles  far  and  near  ; 
Where  the  humming-bird  shimmers — where  the  neck  of 

the  long-lived  swan  is  curving  and  winding ; 
Where   the  laughing-gull  scoots  by  the  shore,  where 

she  laughs  her  near-human  laugh  ; 
Where  bee-hives  range  on  a  gray  bench  in  the  garden, 

half  hid  by  the  high  weeds ; 
Where  band-neck'd  partridges  roost  in  a  ring  on  the 

ground  with  their  heads  out ; 
Where   burial   coaches   enter  the    arch'd    gates   of    a 

cemetery ; 
Where  winter  wolves  bark  amid  wastes  of  snow  and 

icicled  trees ; 
Where  the  yellow-crown'd  heron  comes  to  the  edge  of 

the  marsh  at  night  and  feeds  upon  small  crabs  ; 
Where  the  splash  of  swimmers  and  divers  cools  the 

warm  noon ; 
Where  the  katy-»did  works  her  chromatic  reed  on  the 

walnut-tree  over  the  well ; 

Through  patches  of  citrons  and  cucumbers  with  silver- 
wired  leaves ; 
Through  the  salt-lick  or  orange  glade,  or  under  conical 

firs ; 
Through  the  gymnasium — through  the  curtain'd  saloon 

— through  the  office  or  public  hall ; 


68  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

Pleas'd  with  the  native,  and  pleas'd  with  the  foreign — 
pleas'd  with  the  new  and  old ; 

Pleas'd  with  women,  the  homely  as  well  as  the  hand 
some  ; 

Pleas'd  with  the  quakeress  as  she  puts  off  her  bonnet 
and  talks  melodiously ; 

Pleas'd  with  the  tune  of  the  choir  of  the  white-wash'd 
church ; 

Pleas'd  with  the  earnest  words  of  the  sweating  Metho 
dist  preacher,  or  any  preacher — impress'd  seri 
ously  at  the  camp-meeting : 

Looking  in  at  the  shop-windows  of  Broadway  the 
whole  forenoon — flatting  the  flesh  of  my  nose 
on  the  thick  plate-glass ; 

Wandering  the  same  afternoon  with  my  face  turn'd  up 
to  the  clouds, 

My  right  and  left  arms  round  the  sides  of  two  friends, 
and  I  in  the  middle  : 

Coming  home  with  the  silent  and  dark-cheek'd  bush- 
boy — (behind  me  he  rides  at  the  drape  of  the 
day;) 

Far  from  the  settlements,  studying  the  print  of  animals' 
feet,  or  the  moccasin  print ; 

By  the  cot  in  the  hospital,  reaching  lemonade  to  a 
feverish  patient ; 

Nigh  the  coffin'd  corpse  when  all  is  still,  examining  with 
a  candle  : 

Voyaging  to  every  port,  to  dicker  and  adventure ; 

Hurrying  with  the  modern  crowd,  as  eager  and  fickle 
as  any ; 

Hot  toward  one  I  hate,  ready  in  my  madness  to  knife 
him  ; 

Solitary  at  midnight  in  my  back  yard,  my  thoughts  gone 
from  me  a  long  while  ; 

Walking  the  old  hills  of  Judea,  with  the  beautiful  gentle 
God  by  my  side  ; 

Speeding  through  space — speeding  through  heaven  and 
the  stars ; 

Speeding  amid  the  seven  satellites,  and  the  broad  ring, 
and  the  diameter  of  eighty  thousand  miles  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  69 

Speeding*  with  tail'd  meteors — throwing  fire-balls  like 

the  rest ; 
Carrying  the  crescent  child  that  carries  its  own  full 

mother  in  its  belly  ; 

Storming,  enjoying,  planning,  loving,  cautioning, 
Backing  and  filling,  appearing  and  disappearing  ; 
I  tread  day  and  night  such  roads. 

197  I  visit  the  orchards  of  spheres,   and  look  at  the 

product : 

And  look  at  quintillions  ripen'd,  and  look  at  quintillions 
green. 

198  I  fly  the  flight  of  the  fluid  and  swallowing  soul ; 
My  course  runs  below  the  soundings  of  plummets. 

99  I  help  myself  to  material  and  immaterial ; 
No  guard  can  shut  me  off,  nor  law  prevent  me. 

200  I  anchor  my  ship  for  a  little  while  only  ; 

My  messengers  continually  cruise  away,  or  bring  their 
returns  to  me. 

201  I  go  hunting  polar  furs  and  the  seal — leaping  chasms 

with  a  pike-pointed  staff — clinging  to  topples  of 
brittle  and  blue. 

202  I  ascend  to  the  foretruck  ; 

I  take  my  place  late  at  night  in  the  crow's-nest ; 
We  sail  the  arctic  sea — it  is  plenty  light  enough  ; 
Through  the  clear  atmosphere  I  stretch  around  on  the 

wonderful  beauty ; 
The  enormous  masses  of  ice  pass  me,  and  I  pass  them— 

the  scenery  is  plain  in  all  directions  ; 
The  white-topt  mountains  show  in  the  distance — I  fling 

out  my  fancies  toward  them  ; 
(We  are  approaching  some  great  battle-field  in  which 

we  are  soon  to  be  engaged  ; 
We  pass  the  colossal  outposts  of  the  encampment — we 

pass  with  still  feet  and  caution  ; 


70  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Or  we  are  entering  by  the  suburbs  some  vast  and  ruin'd 

city; 
The  blocks  and  fallen  architecture  more  than  all  the 

living  cities  of  the  globe.) 

203  I  am   a  free   companion — I    bivouac  by  invading 

watchfires. 

204  I  turn  the  bridegroom  out  of  bed,  and  stay  with  the 

bride  myself ; 
I  tighten  her  all  night  to  my  thighs  and  lips. 

206  My  voice  is  the  wife's  voice,  the  screech  by  the  rail 

of  the  stairs  ; 
They  fetch  my  man's  body  up,  dripping  and  drown'd. 

206  I  understand  the  large  hearts  of  heroes, 
The  courage  of  present  times  and  all  times  ; 

How  the  skipper  saw  the  crowded  and  rudderless  wreck 

of  the  steam-ship,  and  Death  chasing  it  up  and 

down  the  storm  ; 
How  he  knuckled  tight,  and  gave  not  back  one  inch, 

and  was  faithful  of  days  and  faithful  of  nights, 
And  chalk'd  in  large  letters,  on  a  board,  Be  of  good 

cheer,  we  will  not  desert  you : 
How  he  follow'd  with  them,  and  tack'd  with  them — and 

would  not  give  it  up  ; 

How  he  saved  the  drifting  company  at  last : 
How  the  lank  loose-go wn'd  women  look'd  when  boated 

from  the  side  of  their  prepared  graves  ; 
How  the  silent  old-faced  infants,  and  the  lifted  sick,  and 

the  sharp-lipp'd  unshaved  men  : 
All  this  I  swallow — it  tastes  good — I  like  it  well — it 

becomes  mine  ; 
I  am  the  man — I  suffer'd — I  was  there. 

207  The  disdain  and  calmness  of  olden  martyrs  ; 

The  mother,  condemned  for  a  witch,  burnt  with  dry 

wood,  her  children  gazing  on  ; 
The  hounded  slave  that  flags  in  the  race,  leans  by  the 

fence,  blowing,  covered  with  sweat ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  71 

The  twinges  that  sting  like  needles  his  legs  and  neck — 

the  murderous  buckshot  and  the  bullets  ; 
All  these  I  feel,  or  am. 

208  I  am  the  hounded  slave,  I  wince  at  the  bite  of  the 

dogs, 
Hell  and  despair  are  upon  me,  crack  and  again  crack 

the  marksmen  ; 
I  clutch  the  rails  of  the  fence,  my  gore  dribs,  thinn'd 

with  the  ooze  of  my  skin  ; 
I  fall  on  the  weeds  and  stones  ; 
The  riders  spur  their  unwilling  horses,  haul  close, 
Taunt  my  dizzy  ears,  and  beat  me  violently  over  the 

head  with  whip-stocks. 

209  Agonies  are  one  of  my  changes  of  garments ; 

I  do  not  ask  the  wounded  person  how  he  feels — I  my 
self  become  the  wounded  person  ; 

My  hurts  turn  livid  upon  me  as  I  lean  on  a  cane  and 
observe. 

210 1  am  the  mash'd  fireman  with  breast-bone  broken  ; 

Tumbling  walls  buried  me  in  their  debris  ; 

Heat  and  smoke  I  inspired — I  heard  the  yelling  shouts 

of  my  comrades ; 

I  heard  the  distant  click  of  their  picks  and  shovels  ; 
They  have  clear'd  the  beams  away — they  tenderly  lift 

me  forth. 

211 1  lie  in  the  night  air  in  my  red  shirt — the  pervading 

hush  is  for  my  sake  ; 

Painless  after  all  I  lie,  exhausted  but  not  so  unhappy  ; 
White   and  beautiful   are  the  faces    around  me — the 

heads  are  bared  of  their  fire-caps  ; 
The    kneeling    crowd    fades    with    the    light  of    the 

torches. 

212  Distant  and  dead  resuscitate  ; 

They  show  as  the  dial  or  move  as  the  hands  of  me — 
I  am  the  clock  myself. 


72  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

213 1  am  an  old  artillerist — I  tell  of  my  fort's  bombard 
ment  ; 
I  am  there  again. 

214  Again  the  long  roll  of  the  drummers  ; 

Again  the  attacking  cannon,  mortars  ; 

Again,  to  my  listening  ears,  the  cannon  responsive. 

215 1  take  part — I  see  and  hear  the  whole  ; 

The  cries,  curses,  roar — the  plaudits  for  well- aim 'd 
shots ; 

The  ambulanza  slowly  passing,  trailing  its  red  drip  ; 

Workmen  searching  after  damages,  making  indispen 
sable  repairs ; 

The  fall  of  grenades  through  the  rent  roof — the  fan- 
shaped  explosion ; 

The  whizz  of  limbs,  heads,  stone,  wood,  iron,  high  in 
the  air. 

216  Again  gurgles  the  mouth  of  my  dying  general — he 

furiously  waves  with  his  hand  ; 

He  gasps  through  the  clot,  Mind  not  me— mind — the 
entrenchments. 

34 

217  Now  I  tell  what  I  knew  in  Texas  in  my  early  youth ; 
(I  tell  not  the  fall  of  Alamo, 

Not  one  escaped  to  tell  the  fall  of  Alamo, 
The  hundred  and  fifty  are  dumb  yet  at  Alamo  ;) 
'Tis  the  tale  of  the  murder  in  cold  blood  of  four  hun 
dred  and  twelve  young  men. 

218  Retreating,  they  had  form'd  in  a  hollow  square,  with 

their  baggage  for  breastworks  ; 
Nine  hundred  lives  out  of  the  surrounding  enemy's, 

nine  times  their  number,  was  the  price  they  took 

in  advance ; 
Their  colonel  was  wounded  and    their    ammunition 

gone; 
They  treated  for  an  honorable   capitulation,   receiv'd 

writing  and  seal,  gave  up  their  arms,  and  march'd 

back  prisoners  of  war. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  73 

219  They  were  the  glory  of  the  race  of  rangers  ; 
Matchless  with  horse,  rifle,  song,  supper,  courtship, 
Large,  turbulent,  generous,  handsome,  proud,  and  affec 
tionate, 

Bearded,  sunburnt,  drest  in  the  free  costume  of  hun 
ters, 
Not  a  single  one  over  thirty  years  of  age. 

220  The  second  First-day  morning  they  were  brought 

out  in  squads,  and  massacred — it  was  beautiful 
early  summer  ; 

The  work  commenced  about  five  o'clock,  and  was  over 
by  eight. 

221  None  obey'd  the  command  to  kneel ; 

Some  made  a  mad  and  helpless  rush — some  stood  stark 
and  straight ; 

A  few  fell  at  once,  shot  in  the  temple  or  heart — the  liv 
ing  and  dead  lay  together ; 

The  maim'd  and  mangled  dug  in  the  dirt — the  new 
comers  saw  them  there  ; 

Some,  half-kill' d,  attempted  to  crawl  away  ; 

These  were  despatch'd  with  bayonets,  or  batter'd  with 
the  blunts  of  muskets  ; 

A  youth  not  seventeen  years  old  seiz'd  his  assassin  till 
two  more  came  to  release  him  ; 

The  three  were  all  torn,  and  cover'd  with  the  boy's 
blood. 

222  At  eleven  o'clock  began  the  burning  of  the  bodies  : 
That  is  the  tale  of  the  murder  of  the  four  hundred  and 

twelve  young  men. 

35 

223  Would  you  hear  of  an  old-fashion'd  sea-fight? 
Would  you  learn  who  won  by  the  light  of  the  moon  and 

stars  ? 

List  to  the  story  as  my  grandmother's  father,  the  sailor, 
told  it  to  me. 


74  LEAVES  OF  G-RASS. 

224  Our  foe  was  no  skulk  in  his  ship,  I  tell  you,  (said  he;) 
His  was   the   surly   English   pluck  —  and  there   is   no 

tougher  or  truer,  and  never  was,  and  never  will 

be; 
Along  the  lower'd  eve  he  came,  horribly  raking  us. 


dosed  with  him  —  tho  yards  entangled  —  the  can 
non  touch'd  ; 
My  captain  lash'd  fast  with  his  own  hands. 

2:3  We  had  receiv'd  some  eighteen  pound  shots  under 

the  water  ; 
On  our  lower-gun-deck  two  large  pieces  had  burst  at 

the  first  fire,  killing  all  around,  and  blowing  up 

overhead. 

227  Fighting  at  sun-down,  fighting  at  dark  ; 

Ten  o'clock  at  night,  the  full  moon  well  up,  our  leaks 

on  the  gain,  and  five  feet  of  water  reported  ; 
Tho  master-at-arms  loosing  the  prisoners  confined  in 

the  after-hold,  to  give  them  a  chance  for  them 

selves. 


0  and  from  the  magazine  is  now  stopt 
by  the  sentinels, 

They  see  so  many  strange  faces,  they  do  not  know  whom 
to  trust. 

229  Qur  frigate  takes  fire  ; 

The  other  asks  if  we  demand  quarter  ? 

If  our  colors  are  struck,  and  the  fighting  is  done? 

230  Now  I  laugh  content,  for  I  hear  the  voice  of  my  little 

captain, 

We  have  not  struck,  he  composedly  cries,  we  have  just 
begun  our  part  of  the  fighting. 

231  Only  three  guns  are  in  use  ; 

One  is  directed  by  the  captain  himself  against  the  ene 

my's  main-mast  ; 
Two,  weU  served  with  grape  and  canister,  silence  his 

musketry  and  clear  his  decks. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  75 

aione  second  the  fire  of  this  little  battery, 
especially  the  main-top  ; 
They  hold  out  bravely  during  the  whole  of  the  action. 

233  Not  a  moment's  cease  ; 

The  leaks  gain  fast  on  the  pumps — the  fire  eats  toward 
the  powder-magazine. 

534  One  of  the  pumps  has  been  shot  away — it  is  gene 
rally  thought  we  are  sinking. 

55  Serene  stands  the  little  captain  ; 
He  is  not  hurried — his  voice  is  neither  high  nor  low  ; 
His  eyes  give  more  light  to  us  than  our  battle-lan 
terns. 

sss  Toward  twelve  at  night,  there  in  the  beams  of  the 
moon,  they  surrender  to  us. 

36 

237  Stretch'd  and  still  lies  the  midnight ; 
Two  great  hulls  motionless  on  the  breast  of  the  dark 
ness  ; 
Our  vessel  riddled  and  slowly  sinking — preparations  to 

pass  to  the  one  we  have  conquer' d ; 
The  captain  on  the  quarter-deck  coldly  giving  his  orders 

through  a  countenance  white  as  a  sheet ; 
Near  by,  the  corpse  of  the  child  that  serv'd  in  the 

cabin  ; 
The  dead  face  of  an  old  salt  with  long  white  hair  and 

carefully  curl'd  whiskers  ; 
The  flames,  spite  of  all  that  can  be  done,  nickering 

aloft  and  below ; 
The  husky  voices  of  the  two  or  three  officers  yet  fit  for 

duty; 
Formless  stacks  of  bodies,  and  bodies  by  themselves — 

dabs  of  flesh  upon  the  masts  and  spars, 
Cut  of  cordage,  dangle  of  rigging,  slight .  shock  of  the 

soothe  of  waves, 


76  LEAVES  OF  G-EASS. 

Black  and  impassive  guns,   litter  of  powder-parcels, 

strong  scent, 
Delicate  sniffs  of  sea-breeze,  smells  of  sedgy  grass  and 

fields  by  the   shore,   death-messages    given   in 

charge  to  survivors, 
The  hiss  of  the  surgeon's  knife,  the  gnawing  teeth  of 

his  saw, 
Wheeze,   cluck,   swash   of    falling    blood,   short    wild 

scream,  and  long,  dull,  tapering  groan  ; 
These  so — these  irretrievable. 

37 

538  O  Christ !  This  is  mastering  me  ! 

In  at  the  conquer'd  doors  they  crowd.    I  am  possess'd. 

239  I  embody  all  presences  outlaw'd  or  suffering  ; 
See  myself  in  prison  shaped  like  another  man, 
And  feel  the  dull  uninterinitted  pain. 

240  For  me  the  keepers  ol  convicts  shoulder  their  car 

bines  and  keep  watch  ; 
It  is  I  let  out  in  the  morning,  and  barr'd  at  night. 

241  Not  a  mutineer  walks  handcuff'd  to  jail,  but  I  am 

handcuff 'd  to  him  and  walk  by  his  side  ; 
(I  am  less  the  jolly  one  there,  and  more  the  silent  one, 
with  sweat  on  my  twitching  lips.) 

242  Not  a  youngster  is  taken  for  larceny,  but  I  go  up 

too,  and  am  tried  and  sentenced. 

243  Not  a  cholera  patient  lies  at  the  last  gasp,  but  I  also 

lie  at  the  last  gasp  ; 

My  face  is  ash-color'd — my  sinews  gnarl — away  from 
me  people  retreat. 

244  Askers  embody  themselves  in  me,  and  I  am  embo 

died  in  them  ; 
I  project  my  hat,  sit  shamerfaced,  and  beg. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  77 

38 

245  Enough  !  enough !   enough ! 
Somehow  I  have  been  stunn'd.     Stand  back ! 

Give  me  a  little  time  beyond  my  cuif'd  head,  slumbers, 

dreams,  gaping ; 
I  discover  myself  on  the  verge  of  a  usual  mistake. 

246  That  I  could  forget  the  mockers  and  insults! 

That  I  could  forget  the  trickling  tears,  and  the  blows 
of  the  bludgeons  and  hammers  ! 

That  I  could  look  with  a  separate  look  on  my  own  cru 
cifixion  and  bloody  crowning. 

247  I  remember  now  ; 

I  resume  the  overstaid  fraction  ; 

The  grave  of  rock  multiplies  what  has  been  confided  to 

it,  or  to  any  graves  ; 
Corpses  rise,  gashes  heal,  fastenings  roll  from  me. 

248  I  troop  forth  replenish'd  with  supreme  power,  one 

of  an  average  unending  procession  ; 

Inland  and  sea-coast  we  go,  and  we  pass  all  boundary 
lines  ; 

Our  swift  ordinances  on  their  way  over  the  whole 
earth ; 

The  blossoms  we  wear  in  our  hats  the  growth  of  thou 
sands  of  years. 

249  Eleves,  I  salute  you !  come  forward ! 

Continue  your  annotations,  continue  your  questionings. 

39 

250  The  friendly  and  flowing  savage,  Who  is  he  ? 

Is  he  waiting  for  civilization,  or  past  it,  and  master 
ing  it? 

251  Is  he  some  south-westerner,  rais'd  out-doors  ?    Is  he 

Kanadian  ? 


78  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

Is  he  from  the  Mississippi  country?  Iowa,  Oregon, 
California  ?  the  mountains  ?  prairie-life,  bush- 
life  ?  or  from  the  sea  ? 

252  Wherever  he  goes,  men  and  women  accept  and  de 

sire  him  ; 

They  desire  he  should  like  them,  touch  them,  speak  to 
thorn,  stay  with  them. 

V 

253  Behavior  lawless   as   snow-flakes,  words  simple   as 

grass,  uncomb'd  head,  laughter,  and  naivete, 
Slow-stepping  feet,  common  features,  common  modes 

and  emanations ; 

They  descend  in  new  forms  from  the  tips  of  his  fingers  ; 
They  are  wafted  with  the  odor  of  his  body  or  breath — 

they  fly  out  of  the  glance  of  his  eyes. 

40 

254  Flaunt  of  the  sunshine,  I  need  not  your  bask, — lie 

over ! 

You  light  surfaces  only — I  force  surfaces  and  depths 
also. 

255  Earth !  you  seem  to  look  for  something  at  my  hands  ; 
Say,  old  Top-knot !  what  do  you  want  ? 

256  Man  or  woman!  I  might  tell  how  I  like  you,  but 

cannot ; 
And  might  tell  what  it  is  in  me,  and  what  it  is  in  you, 

but  cannot ; 
And  might  tell  that  pining  I  have — that  pulse  of  my 

nights  and  days. 

257  Behold !  I  do  not  give  lectures,  or  a  little  charity  ; 
When  I  give,  I  give  myself. 

258  You  there,  impotent,  loose  in  the  knees ! 

Open  your  scarf 'd  chops  till  I  blow  grit  within  you  ; 
Spread  your  palms,  and  lift  the  flaps  of  your  pockets  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  79 

I  arn  not  to  be  denied — I  compel — I  have  stores  plenty 

and  to  spare  ; 
And  anything  I  have  I  bestow. 

i53  I  do  not  ask  who  you  are — that  is  not  so  important 

to  me  ; 
You  can  do  nothing,  and  be  nothing,  but  what  I  will 

infold  you. 

260  To  cotton-field  drudge  or  cleaner  of  privies  I  lean  ; 
On  his  right  cheek  I  put  the  family  kiss, 

And  in  my  soul  I  swear,  I  never  will  deny  him. 

261  On  women   fit   for   conception  I  start  bigger  and 

nimbler  babtes  ; 

(This  day  I  am  jetting  the  stuff  of  far  more  arrogant 
republics.) 

262  To  any  one  dying — thither  I  speed,  and  twist  the 

knob  of  the  door  ; 

Turn  the  bed-clothes  toward  the  foot  of  the  bed ; 
Let  the  physician  and  the  priest  go  home. 

263  I  seize  the  descending  man,  and  raise  him  with  re 

sistless  will. 

264  O  despairer,  here  is  my  neck  ; 

By  God!   you  shall  not  go  down!   Hang  your  whole 
weight  upon  me. 

265  I  dilate  you  with  tremendous  breath — I  buoy  you 

up; 

Every  room  of  the  house  do  I  fill  with  an  arm'd  force, 
Lovers  of  me,  bafflers  of  graves. 

266  Sleep !  I  and  they  keep  guard  all  night ; 

Not  doubt — not  decease  shall  dare  to  lay  finger  upon 

you; 
I  have  embraced  you,  and  henceforth  possess  you  to 

myself ; 


80  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

And  when  you  rise  in  the  morning  you  will  find  what  I 
tell  you  is  so. 

41 

267  I  am  he  bringing  help  for  the  sick  as  they  pant  on 

their  backs  ; 

And  for  strong  upright  men  I  bring  yet  more  needed 
help. 

268  I  heard  what  was  said  of  the  universe  ; 
Heard  it  and  heard  it  of  several  thousand  years  : 

It  is  middling  well  as  far  as  it  goes, — But  is  that  all  ? 

269  Magnifying  and  applying  come  I, 
Outbidding  at  the  start  the  old  cautious  hucksters, 
Taking  myself  the  exact  dimensions  of  Jehovah, 
Lithographing  Kronos,  Zeus  his  son,  and  Hercules  his 

grandson ; 

Buying  drafts  of  Osiris,  Isis,  Belus,  Brahma,  Buddha, 
In  my  portfolio  placing  Manito  loose,  Allah  on  a  leaf, 

the  crucifix  engraved, 
With  Odin,  and  the  hideous-faced  Mexitli,  and  every 

idol  and  image  ; 
Taking  them  all  for  what  they  are  worth,  and  not  a  cent 

more ; 
Admitting  they  were  ah' ve  and  did  the  work  of  their 

days ; 
(They  bore  mites,  as  for  unfledg'd  birds,  who  have  now 

to  rise  and  fly  and  sing  for  themselves  ;) 
Accepting  the  rough  deific  sketches  to  fill  out  better  in 

myself — bestowing  them  freely  on  each  man  and 

woman  I  see  ; 
Discovering  as  much,  or  more,  in  a  framer  framing  a 

house  ; 
Putting  higher  claims  for  him  there  with  his  roll'd-up 

sleeves,  driving  the  mallet  and  chisel ; 
Not  objecting  to  special  revelations — considering  a  curl 

of  smoke,  or  a  hair  on  the  back  of  my  hand,  just 

as  curious  as  any  revelation  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  81 

Lads  ahold  of  fire-engines  and  hook-and-ladder  ropes 
no  less  to  ine  than  the  Gods  of  the  antique  wars  ; 

Minding  their  voices  peal  through  the  crash  of  destruc 
tion, 

Their  brawny  limbs  passing  safe  over  charr'd  laths — 
their  white  foreheads  whole  and  unhurt  out  of 
the  flames  : 

By  the  mechanic's  wife  with  her  babe  at  her  nipple  in 
terceding  for  every  person  born  ; 

Three  scythes  at  harvest  whizzing  in  a  row  from  three 
lusty  angels  with  shirts  bagg'd  out  at  their  waists ; 

The  snag-tooth' d  hostler  with  red  hair  redeeming  sins 
past  and  to  come, 

Selling  all  he  possesses,  traveling  on  foot  to  fee  lawyers 
for  his  brother,  and  sit  by  him  while  he  is  tried 
for  forgery  ; 

What  was  strewn  in  the  amplest  strewing  the  square 
rod  about  me,  and  not  filling  the  square  rod 
then  ; 

The  bull  and  the  bug  never  worship' cl  half  enough  ; 

Dung  and  dirt  more  admirable  than  was  dream'd  ; 

The  supernatural  of  no  account — myself  waiting  my 
time  to  be  one  of  the  Supremes  ; 

The  day  getting  ready  for  me  when  I  shall  do  as  much 
good  as  the  best,  and  be  as  prodigious  : 

By  my  life-lumps !  becoming  already  a  creator  ; 

Putting  myself  here  and  now  to  the  ambush'd  womb  of 
the  shadows. 

42 

270  A  call  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  ; 

My  own  voice,  orotund,  sweeping,  and  final. 

271  Come  my  children  ; 

Come  my  boys  and  girls,  my  women,  household,  and 

intimates  ; 
Now  the  performer  launches  his  nerve — he  has  pass'd 

his  prelude  on  the  reeds  within. 

272  Easily  written,  loose-finger'd  chords !  I  feel  the  thrum 

of  your  climax  and  close. 


82  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

273  My  head  slues  round  on  my  neck  ; 
Music  rolls,  but  not  from  the  organ  ; 

Folks  are  around  me,  but  they  are  no  household  of 
mine. 

274  Ever  the  hard,  unsunk  ground  ; 

Ever  the  eaters  and  drinkers — ever  the  upward  and 

downward  sun — ever  the  air  and  the  ceaseless 

tides  ; 

Ever  myself  and  my  neighbors,  refreshing,  wicked,  real ; 
Ever  the   old    inexplicable   query — ever   that    thorn'd 

thumb — that  breath  of  itches  and  thirsts  ; 
Ever  the  vexer's  hoot !  hoot !  till  we  find  where  the  sly 

one  hides,  and  bring  him  forth  ; 
Ever  love — ever  the  sobbing  liquid  of  life  ; 
Ever  the  bandage  under  the  chin — ever  the  tressels  of 

death. 

275  Here  and  there,  with  dimes  on  the  eyes,  walking  ; 
To  feed  the   greed  of  the  belly,  the  brains  liberally 

spooning  ; 
Tickets  buying,  taking,  selling,  but  in  to  the  feast  never 

once  going  ; 
Many  sweating,  ploughing,  thrashing,  and  then  the  chaff 

for  payment  receiving ; 
A  few  idly  owning,   and  they  the  wheat  continually 

claiming. 

276  This  is  the  city,  and  I  am  one  of  the  citizens  ; 
Whatever  interests  the  rest  interests  me — politics,  wars, 

markets,  newspapers,  schools,    . 

Benevolent  societies,  improvements,  banks,  tariffs, 
steamships,  factories,  stocks,  stores,  real  estate, 
and  personal  estate. 

277  The  little  plentiful  mannikins,  skipping  around  in 

collars  and  tail'd  coats, 

I  am  aware  who  they  are — (they  are  positively  not 
worms  or  fleas.) 


WALT  WHITMAN.  83 

278  I  acknowledge  the  duplicates  of  myself — the  weakest 
and  shallowest  is  deathless  with  me  ; 

What  I  do  and  say,  the  same  waits  for  them  ; 

Every  thought  that  flounders  in  me,  the  same  flounders 
in  them. 

79  I  know  perfectly  well  my  own  egotism  ; 
I  know  my  omnivorous  lines,  and  will  not  write  any 

less  ; 
And  would   fetch   you,  whoever  you   are,  flush  with 

myself. 

50  No  words  of  routine  are  mine, 
But  abruptly  to  question,  to  leap  beyond,  yet  nearer 

bring  : 
This  printed  and  bound  book — but  the  printer,  and  the 

printing-office  boy  ? 
The  well-taken  photographs — but  your  wife  or  friend 

close  and  solid  in  your  arms? 
The  black  ship,  mail'd  with  iron,  her  mighty  guns  in 

her  turrets — but  the  pluck  of  the  captain  and 

engineers  ? 
In  the  houses,  the  dishes  and  fare  and  furniture — but 

the  host  and  hostess,  and  the  look  out  of  their 

eyes? 
The  sky  up  there — yet  here,  or  next  door,  or  across  the 

way? 

The  saints  and  sages  in  history — but  you  yourself  ? 
Sermons,  creeds,  theology — but  the  fathomless  human 

brain, 
And  what  is  reason  ?  and  what  is  love  ?  and  what  is  life  ? 

43 

281  I  do  not  despise  you,  priests ; 

My  faith  is  the  greatest  of  faiths,  and  the  least  of  faiths, 

Enclosing  worship  ancient  and  modern,  and  all  between 

ancient  and  modern, 
Believing  I  shall  come  again  upon  the  earth  after  five 

thousand  years, 
Waiting  responses  from  oracles,  honoring  the   Gods, 

saluting  the  sun, 


84  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Making  a  fetish  of  the  first  rock  or  stump,  powwowing 
with  sticks  in  the  circle  of  obis, 

Helping  the  lama  or  brahmin  as  he  trims  the  lamps  of 
the  idols, 

Dancing  yet  through  the  streets  in  a  phallic  proces 
sion — rapt  and  austere  in  the  woods,  a  gynmo- 
sophist, 

Drinking  mead  from  the  skull-cup — to  Shastas  and 
Vedas  admirant — minding  the  Koran, 

Walking  the  teokallis,  spotted  with  gore  from  the  stone 
and  knife,  beating  the  serpent-skin  drum, 

Accepting  the  Gospels — accepting  him  that  was  cruci 
fied,  knowing  assuredly  that  he  is  divine. 

To  the  mass  kneeling,  or  the  puritan's  prayer  rising,  or 
sitting  patiently  in  a  pew, 

Banting  and  frothing  in  my  insane  crisis,  or  waiting 
dead-like  till  my  spirit  arouses  me, 

Looking  forth  on  pavement  and  land,  or  outside  of 
pavement  and  land, 

Belonging  to  the  winders  of  the  circuit  of  circuits. 

282  One  of  that  centripetal  and  centrifugal  gang,  I  turn 

and  talk,  like  a  man  leaving  charges  before  a 
journey. 

283  Down-hearted  doubters,  dull  and  excluded, 
Frivolous,  sullen,  moping,  angry,  affected,  dishearten'd, 

atheistical ; 

I  know  every  one  of  you — I  know  the  sea  of  torment, 
doubt,  despair  and  unbelief. 

284  How  the  flukes  splash ! 

How  they  contort,  rapid  as  lightning,  with  spasms,  and 
spouts  of  blood! 

285  Be  at  peace,  bloody  flukes  of  doubters  and  sullen 

mopers ; 

I  take  my  place  among  you  as  much  as  among  any  ; 
The  past  is  the  push  of  you,  me,  all,  precisely  the  same, 
And  what  is  yet  untried  and  afterward  is  for  you,  me, 

.  nil,  precisely  the  same. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  85 

286  I  do  not  know  what  is  untried  and  afterward  ; 

But  I  know  it  will  in  its  turn  prove  sufficient,  and  can 
not  fail. 

287  Each  who  passes  is  consider'd — each  who  stops  is 

consider'd — not  a  single  one  can  it  fail. 

288  It  cannot  fail  the   young  man  who  died  and  was 

buried, 
Nor  the  young  woman  who  died  and  was  put  by  his 

side, 
Nor  the  little  child  that  peep'd  in  at  the  door,  and  then 

drew  back,  and  was  never  seen  again, 
Nor  the  old  man  who  has  lived  without  purpose,  and 

feels  it  with  bitterness  worse  than  gall, 
Nor  him  in  the  poor  house,  tubercled  by  rum  and  the 

bad  disorder, 
Nor  the  numberless  slaughter'd  and  wreck'd — nor  the 

brutish  koboo  caLL'd  the  ordure  of  humanity, 
Nor  the  sacs  merely  floating  with  open  mouths  for  food 

to  slip  in, 
Nor  anything  in  the  earth,  or  down  in  the  oldest  graves 

of  the  earth, 
Nor  anything  in  the  myriads  of  spheres — nor  one  of 

the  myriads  of  myriads  that  inhabit  them, 
Nor  the  present — nor  the  least  wisp  that  is  known. 

44 

289  It  is  time  to  explain  myself — Let  us  stand  up. 

290  What  is  known  I  strip  away  ; 

I  launch  all  men  and  women  forward  with  me  into  THE 
UNKNOWN. 

291  The  clock  indicates  the  moment — but  what  does  eter 

nity  indicate? 

292  We  have  thus  far  exhausted  trillions  of  winters  and 

summers  ; 
There  are  trillions  ahead,  and  trillions  ahead  of  them. 


86  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

293  Births  have  brought  us  richness  and  variety, 
And  other  births  will  bring  us  richness  and  variety. 

u  I  do  not  call  one  greater  and  one  smaller  ; 
That  which  fills  its  period  and  place  is  equal  to  any. 

295  ^\rere  mankind  murderous  or  jealous  upon  you,  my 

brother,  my  sister? 
I  am  sorry  for  you — they  are  not  murderous  or  jealous 

upon  me ; 
All  has  been  gentle  with  me — I  keep  no  account  with 

lamentation ;     ' 
(What  have  I  to  do  with  lamentation  ?) 

96  I  am  an  acme  of  things  accomplished,  and  I  an  en- 
closer  of  things  to  be. 

297  My  feet  strike  an  apex  of  the  apices  of  the  stairs  ; 
On  every  step  bunches  of  ages,  and  larger  bunches  be 
tween  the  steps ; 

All  below  duly  travel'd,  and  still  I  mount  and  mount. 

298  Rise  after  rise  bow  the  phantoms  behind  me  ; 

Afar  down  I  see  the  huge  first  Nothing — I  know  I  was 
even  there ; 

I  waited  unseen  and  always,  and  slept  through  the  leth 
argic  mist, 

And  took  my  time,  and  took  no  hurt  from  the  fetid 
carbon. 

299  Long  I  was  hugg'd  close — long  and  long. 

)0  Immense  have  been  the  preparations  for  me, 
Faithful  and  friendly  the  arms  that  have  help'd  me. 

301  Cycles  ferried  my  cradle,  rowing  and  rowing  like 

cheerful  boatmen  ; 

For  room  to  me  stars  kept  aside  in  their  own  lings  ; 
They  sent  influences  to  look  after  what  was  to  hold  me. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  87 

302  Before  I  was  born  out  of  my  mother,  generations 

guided  me  ; 
My  embryo  has  never  been  torpid  —  nothing  could  over 

lay  it. 


cohered  to  an  orb, 
The  long  slow  strata  piled  to  rest  it  on, 
Vast  vegetables  gave  it  sustenance, 
Monstrous  sauroids  transported  it  in  their  mouths,  and 
deposited  it  with  care. 

304  All  forces  have  been  steadily  employ'd  to  complete 

and  delight  me  ; 
Now  on  this  spot  I  stand  with  my  robust  Soul. 

45 

305  O  span  of  youth  !  Ever-push'd  elasticity  I 
O  manhood,  balanced,  florid,  and  full. 

see  lyjy  iovers  suffocate  me  ! 

Crowding  my  lips,  thick  in  the  pores  of  my  skin, 

Jostling  me  through  streets  and  public  halls  —  coming 

naked  to  me  at  night, 
Crying  by  day  Ahoy!  from  the  rocks  of  the  river  — 

swinging  and  chirping  over  my  head, 
Calling  my  name  from  flower-beds,  vines,  tangled  under 

brush, 

Lighting  on  every  moment  of  my  life, 
Bussing  my  body  with  soft  balsamic  busses, 
Noiselessly  passing  handfuls  out  of  their  hearts,  and 

giving  them  to  be  mine. 

307  Old  age  superbly  rising  !   O  welcome,  ineffable  grace 
of  dying  days  ! 

so8  Every  condition  promulges  not  only  itself  —  it  prc- 

mulges  what  grows  after  and  out  of  itself, 
And  the  dark  hush  promulges  as  much  as  any. 

309  I  open  my  scuttle  at  night  and  see  the  far-sprinkled 
systems, 


88  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

And  all  I  see,  multiplied  as  high  as  I  can  cipher,  edge 
but  the  rim  of  the  farther  systems. 

310  Wider  and  wider  they  spread,  expanding,  always  ex 

panding, 
Outward  and  outward,  and  forever  outward. 

311  My  sun  has  his   sun,  and  round  him   obediently 

wheels, 

He  joins  with  his  partners  a  group  of  superior  circuit, 
And  greater  sets  follow,  making  specks  of  the  greatest 

inside  them. 

2  There  is  no  stoppage,  and  never  can  be  stoppage ; 
If  I,  you,  and  the  worlds,  and  all  beneath  or  upon  their 
surfaces,  were  this  moment  reduced  back  to  a 
pallid  float,  it  would  not  avail  in  the  long  run  ; 
We  should  surely  bring  up  again  where  we  now  stand, 
And  as  surely  go  as  much  farther — and  then  farther  and 
farther. 

'  V" ' 

313  A  few  quadrillions  of  eras,  a  few  octillions  of  cubic 

leagues,  do  not  hazard  the  span,  or  make  it  im 
patient  ; 
They  are  but  parts — anything  is  but  a  part. 

314  See  ever  so  far,  there  is  limitless  space  outside  of  that ; 
Count  ever  so  much,  there  is  limitless  time  around  that. 

315  My  rendezvous  is  appointed — it  is  certain  ; 

The  Lord  will  be  there,  and  wait  till  I  come,  on  perfect 

terms ; 
(The  great  Camerado,  the  lover  true  for  whom  I  pine, 

will  be  there.) 

46 

316  I  know  I  have  the  best  of  time  and  space,  and  was 

never  measured,  and  never  will  be  measured. 

17  I  tramp  a  perpetual  journey — (come  listen  all !) 
My  signs  are  a  rain-proof  coat,  good  shoes,  and  a  staff 
cut  from  the  woods  ; 


WALT  WHITMAN.  89 

No  friend  of  mine  takes  his  ease  in  my  chair  ; 

I  have  no  chair,  no  church,  no  philosophy ; 

I  lead  no  man  to  a  dinner-table,  library,  or  exchange  ; 

But  each  man  and  each  woman  of  you  I  lead  upon  a 

knoll, 

My  left  hand  hooking  you  round  the  waist, 
My  right  hand  pointing  to  landscapes  of  continents, 

and  a  plain  public  road. 

318  Not  I — not  any  one  else,  can  travel  that  road  for 

you, 
You  must  travel  it  for  yourself. 

19  It  is  not  far — it  is  within  reach  ; 
Perhaps  you  have  been  on  it  since  you  were  born,  and 

did  not  know  ; 
Perhaps  it  is  every  where  on  water  and  on  land. 

320  Shoulder  your  duds,  dear  son,  and  I  will  mine,  and 

let  us  hasten  forth, 

Wonderful  cities  and  free  nations  we*  shall  fetch  as 
we  go. 

321  If  you  tire,  give  me  both  burdens,  and  rest  the  chuff 

of  your  hand  on  my  hip, 
And  in  due  time  you  shall  repay  the  same  service  to 

me  ; 
For  after  we  start,  we  never  lie  by  again. 

322  This  day  before  dawn  I  ascended  a  hill,  and  look'd  at 

the  crowded  heaven, 
And  I  said  to  my  Spirit,  When  we  become  the  enfolders 

of  those  orbs,  and  the  pleasure  and  knowledge  of 

everything  in  them,  shall  we  be  fiWd  and  satisfied 

then? 
And  my  Spirit  said,  No,  we  but  level  that  lift,  to  pass  and 

continue  beyond. 

323  You  are  also  asking  me  questions,  and  I  hear  you  ; 
I  answer  that  I  cannot  answer — you  must  find  out  for 

yourself. 


90  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

324  Sit  a  while,  dear  son  ; 

Here  are  biscuits  to  eat,  and  here  is  milk  to  drink  ; 
But  as  soon  as  you  sleep,  and  renew  yourself  in  sweet 

clothes,  I  kiss  you  with  a  good-bye  kiss,  and  open 

the  gate  for  your  egress  hence. 

325  Long  enough  have  you  dream'd  contemptible  dreams; 
Now  I  wash  the  gum  from  your  eyes  ; 

You  must  habit  yourself  to  the  dazzle  of  the  light,  and 
of  every  moment  of  your  life. 

326  Long  have  you  timidly  waded,  holding  a  plank  by 

the  shore ; 

Now  I  will  you  to  be  a  bold  swimmer, 
To  jump  off  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  rise  again,  nod  to 

me,  shout,  and  laughingly  dash  with  your  hair. 

47 

327  I  am  the  teacher  of  athletes ; 

He  that  by  me  spreads  a  wider  breast  than  my  own, 

proves  the  width  of  my  own  ; 
He  most  honors  my  style  who  learns  under  it  to  destroy 

the  teacher. 

328  The  boy  I   love,    the   same  becomes   a    man,   not 

through  derived  power,  but  in  his  own  right, 
Wicked,  rather  than  virtuous  out  of  conformity  or  fear, 
Fond  of  his  sweetheart,  relishing  well  his  steak, 
Unrequited  love,  or  a  slight,  cutting  him  worse  than 

sharp  steel  cuts, 
First-rate  to  ride,  to  fight,  to  hit  the  bull's  eye,  to  sail  a 

skiff,  to  sing  a  song,  or  play  on  the  banjo, 
Preferring  scars,  and  the  beard,  and  faces  pitted  with 

small-pox,  over  all  latherers, 
And  those  well  tann'd  to  those  that  keep  out  of  the  sun. 

829  I  teach  straying  from  me— yet  who  can  stray  from 

me? 

I  follow  you,  whoever  you  are,  from  the  present  hour  ; 
My  words  itch  at  your  ears  till  you  understand  them. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  91 

330  I  do  not  say  these  things  for  a  dollar,  or  to  fill  up 

the  time  while  I  wait  for  a  boat  ; 
It  is  you  talking  just  as  much  as  myself  —  I  act  as  the 

tongue  of  you  ; 
Tied  in  your  mouth,  in  mine  it  begins  to  be  loosen'd. 

331  I  swear  I  will  never  again  mention  love  or  death  in 

side  a  house, 

And  I  swear  I  will  never  translate  myself  at  all,  only  to 
him  or  her  who  privately  stays  with  me  in  the 
open  air. 

332  If  you  would  understand  me,  go  to  the  heights  or 

water-shore  ; 
The  nearest  gnat  is  an  explanation,  and  a  drop  or  mo 

tion  of  waves  a  key  ; 
The  maul,  the  oar,  the  hand-saw,  second  my  words. 

333  No  shutter'd  room  or  school  can  commune  with  me, 
But  roughs  and  little  children  better  than  they. 


334  r^e  y0tmg  mechanic  is  closest  to  me  —  he  knows  me 

well  ; 
The  woodman,  that  takes  his  axe  and  jug  with  him, 

shall  take  me  with  him  all  day  ; 
The  farm-boy,  ploughing  in  the  field,  feels  good  at  the 

sound  of  my  voice  ; 
In  vessels  that  sail,  my  words  sail  —  I  go  with  fishermen 

and  seamen,  and  love  them. 


ier  camp'd,  or  upon  the  march,  is  mine  ; 
On  the  night  ere  the  pending  battle,  many  seek  me,  and 

I  do  not  fail  them  ; 
On  the  solemn  night  (it  may  be  their  last,)  those  that 

know  me,  seek  me. 

336  My  face  rubs  to  the  hunter's  face,  when  he  lies  down 

alone  in  his  blanket  ; 
The  driver,  thinking  of  me,  does  not  mind  the  jolt  of 

his  wagon  ; 


92  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

The  young  mother  and  old  mother  comprehend  me  ; 
The  girl  and  the  wife  rest  the  needle  a  moment,  and 

forget  where  they  are  ; 
They  and  all  would  resume  what  I  have  told  them. 

48 

337  I  have  said  that  the  soul  is  not  more  than  the  body, 
And  I  have  said  that  the  body  is  not  more  than  the  soul; 
And  nothing,  not  God,  is  greater  to  one  than  one's- 

self  is, 
And  whoever  walks  a  furlong  without  sympathy,  walks 

to  his  own  funeral,  drest  in  his  shroud, 
And  I  or  you,  pocketless  of  a  dime,  may  purchase  the 

pick  of  the  earth, 
And  to  glance  with  an  eye,  or  show  a  bean  in  its  pod, 

confounds  the  learning  of  all  times, 
And  there  is  no  trade  or  employment  but  the  young 

man  following  it  may  become  a  hero, 
And  there  is  no  object  so  soft  but  it  makes  a  hub  for  the 

wheel'd  universe, 
And  I  say  to  any  man  or  woman,  Let  your  soul  stand 

cool  and  composed  before  a  million  universes. 

338  And  I  say  to  mankind,  Be  not  curious  about  God, 
For  I,  who  am  curious  about  each,  am  not  curious  about 

God; 

(No  array  of  terms  can  say  how  much  I  am  at  peace 
about  God,  and  about  death.) 

339  I  hear  and  behold  God  in  every  object,  yet  under 

stand  God  not  in  the  least, 

Nor  do  I  understand  who  there  can  be  more  wonderful 
than  myself. 

340  Why  should  I  wish  to  see  God  better  than  this  day  ? 
I  see  something  of  God  each  hour  of  the  twenty-four, 

and  each  moment  then  ; 
In  the  faces  of  men  and  women  I  see  God,  and  in  my 

own  face  in  the  glass  ; 
I  find  letters  from  God  dropt  in  the  street — and  every 

one  is  sign'd  by  God's  name, 


WALT  WHITMAN.  93 

And  I  leave  them  where  they  are,  for  I  know  that 

wheresoe'er  I  go, 
Others  will  punctually  come  forever  and  ever. 

49 

41  And  as  to  you  Death,  and  you  bitter  hug  of  mortal 
ity,  it  is  idle  to  try  to  alarm  me. 

342  To  his  work  without  flinching  the  accoucheur  comes; 
I  see  the  elder-hand,  pressing,  receiving,  supporting  ; 

I  recline  by  the  sills  of  the  exquisite  flexible  doors, 
And  mark  the  outlet,  and  mark  the  relief  and  escape. 

343  And  as  to  you,  Corpse,  I  think  you  are  good  manure 

— but  that  does  not  offend  me  ; 
I  smell  the  white  roses  sweet-scented  and  growing, 
I  reach  to  the  leafy  lips — I  reach  to  the  polish'd  breasts 

of  melons. 

344  And  as  to  you  Lif  ?,  I  reckon  you  are  the  leavings  of 

many  deaths  ; 

(No   doubt  I  have   died  myself   ten  thousand  times 
before.) 

345  I  hear  you  whispering  there,  O  stars  of  heaven  ; 

0  suns  !  O  grass  of  graves  !  O  perpetual  transfers  and 

promotions ! 
If  you  do  not  say  anything,  how  can  I  say  anything  ? 

346  Of  the  turbid  pool  that  lies  in  the  autumn  forest, 

Of  the  moon  that  descends  the  steeps  of  the  soughing 

twilight, 
Toss,  sparkles  of  day  and  dusk !  toss  on  the  black  stems 

that  decay  in  the  muck  ! 
Toss  to  the  moaning  gibberish  of  the  dry  limbs. 

347  I  ascend  from  the  moon,  I  ascend  from  the  night ; 

1  perceive  that  the  ghastly  glimmer  is  noonday  sunbeams 

reflected  ; 

And  debouch  to  the  steady  and  central  from  the  off 
spring  great  or  small. 


94:  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

50 

348  There  is  that  in  me  —  I  do  not  know  what  it  is  —  but 
I  know  it  is  in  me. 


sjo  Wrench'd  an(^  sweaty  —  calm  and  cool  then  my  body 

becomes  ; 
I  sleep  —  I  sleep  long. 

250  I  do  not  know  it—  it  is  without  name  —  it  is  a  word 

unsaid  ; 
It  is  not  in  any  dictionary,  utterance,  symbol. 

351  Something  it  swings  on  more  than  the  earth  I  swing 

on; 

To  it  the  creation  is  the  friend  whose  embracing  awakes 
me. 

352  perhaps  I  might  tell  more.     Outlines  !  I  plead  for 

my  brothers  and  sisters. 

053  Do  you  see,  O  my  brothers  and  sisters  ? 
It  is  not  chaos  or  death  —  it  is  form,  union,  plan  —  it  is 
eternal  life  —  it  is  HAPPINESS. 

51 

354  The  past  and  present  wilt  —  I  have  fill'd  them,  emp 

tied  them, 
And  proceed  to  fill  my  next  fold  of  the  future. 

355  Listener  up  there  !     Here,  you  !     What  have  you  to 

confide  to  me  ? 

Look  in  my  face,  while  I  snuff  the  sidle  of  evening  ; 
Talk  honestly  —  no  one  else  hears  you,  and  I  stay  only  a 

minute  longer. 

356  Do  I  contradict  myself  ? 

Very  well,  then,  I  contradict  myself  ; 
(I  am  large  —  I  contain  multitudes.) 

357  I  concentrate  toward  them  that  are  nigh  —  I  wait  on 

the  door-slab. 


WALT  WHITMAN.  95 

358  Who  has  done  his  day's  work  ?    Who  will  soonest  be 

through  with  his  supper  ? 
Who  wishes  to  walk  with  me  ? 

S59  ^in  voll  gpeak  before  I  am  gone  ?  Will  you  prove 
already  too  late  V 

52 

360  The  spotted  hawk  swoops  by  and  accuses  me — he 

complains  of  my  gab  and  my  loitering. 

361  I  too  am  not  a  bit  tamed — I  too  am  untranslatable  ; 
I  sound  my  barbaric  yawp  over  the  roofs  of  the  world. 

362  The  last  scud  of  day  holds  back  for  me  ; 

It  flings  my  likeness  after  the  rest,  and  true  as  any,  on 

the  shadow'd  wilds ; 
It  coaxes  me  to  the  vapor  and  the  dusk. 

363  I  depart  as  air — I  shake  my  white  locks  at  the  run 

away  sun  ; 
I  effuse  my  flesh  in  eddies,  and  drift  it  in  lacy  jags. 

3M  I  bequeathe  myself  to  the  dirt,  to  grow  from  the 
grass  I  love ; 

If  you  want  me  again,  look  for  me  under  your  boot- 
soles. 

ses  YOU  will  hardly  know  who  I  am,  or  what  I  mean  ; 
But  I  shall  be  good  health  to  you  nevertheless, 
And  filter  and  fibre  your  blood. 

66  Failing  to  fetch  me  at  first,  keep  encouraged  ; 
Missing  me  one  place,  search  another  ; 
I  stop  somewhere,  waiting  for  you. 


96  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


LAWS    FOR    CREATIONS. 

1  LAWS  for  Creations, 

For  strong  artists  and  leaders — for  fresh  broods  of 

teachers,  and  perfect  literats  for  America, 
For  noble  savans,  and  coming  musicians. 

2  All  must  have  reference  to  the  ensemble  of  the  world, 

and  the  compact  truth  of  the  world  ; 
There  shall  be  no  subject  too  pronounced — All  works 
shall  illustrate  the  divine  law  of  indirections. 

3  What  do  you  suppose  Creation  is  ? 

What  do  you  suppose  will  satisfy  the  Soul,  except  to 
walk  free,  and  own  no  superior  ? 

What  do  you  suppose  I  would  intimate  to  you  in  a  hun 
dred  ways,  but  that  man  or  woman  is  as  good  as 
God? 

And  that  there  is  no  God  any  more  divine  than  Your 
self? 

And  that  that  is  what  the  oldest  and  newest  myths 
finally  mean  ? 

And  that  you  or  any  one  must  approach  Creations 
through  such  laws  ? 


VISOR'D. 

A  MASK — a  perpetual  natural  disguiser  of  herself, 
Concealing  her  face,  concealing  her  form', 
Changes  and  transformations  every  hour,  every  mo 
ment, 
Falling  upon  her  even  when  she  sleeps. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


CHILDREN    OF    ADAM. 


To  THE  GARDEN,  THE  WORLD. 

To  THE  garden,  the  world, -anew  ascending, 

Potent  mates,  daughters,  sons,  preluding, 

The  love,  the  life  of  their  bodies,  meaning  and  being, 

Curious,  here  behold  my  resurrection,  after  slumber  ; 

The  revolving  cycles,  in  their  wide  sweep,  having  brought 

me  again, 

Amorous,  mature — all  beautiful  to  me — all  wondrous  ; 
My  limbs,  and  the  quivering  fire  that  ever  plays  through 

them,  for  reasons,  most  wondrous  ; 
Existing,  I  peer  and  penetrate  still, 
Content  with  the  present — content  with  the  past, 
By  my  side,  or  back  of  me,  Eve  following, 
Or  in  front,  and  I  following  her  just  the  same. 


FROM  PENT-UP  ACHING  RIVERS. 

FKOM  pent-up,  aching  rivers  ; 

From  that  of  myself,  without  which  I  were  nothing  ; 

From  what  I  am  determin'd  to  make  illustrious,  even 

if  I  stand  sole  among  men  ; 

From  my  own  voice  resonant — singing  the  phallus, 
Singing  the  song  of  procreation, 
5 


98  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

Singing  the  need  of  superb  children,  and  therein  superb 

grown  people, 

Singing  the  muscular  urge  and  the  blending, 
Singing  the  bedfellow's  song,  (O  resistless  yearning ! 
O  for  any  and  each,  the  body  correlative  attracting ! 

0  for  you,  whoever  you  are,  your  correlative  body !  O 

it,  more  than  all  else,  you  delighting !) 

— From  the  hungry  gnaw  that  eats  me  night  and 
day; 

From  native  moments — from  bashful  pains — singiDg 
them  ; 

Singing  something  yet  unfound,  though  I  have  dili 
gently  sought  it,  many  a  long  year  ; 

Singing  the  true  song  of  the  Soul,  fitful,  at  random ; 

Singing  what,  to  the  Soul,  entirely  redeem'd  her,  the 
faithful  one,  even  the  prostitute,  who  detain'd 
me  when  I  went  to  the  city  ; 

Singing  the  song  of  prostitutes  ; 

Renascent  with  grossest  Nature,  or  among  animals  ; 

Of  that — of  them,  and  what  goes  with  them,  my  poems 
informing ; 

Of  the  smell  of  apples  and  lemons — of  the  pairing  of 
birds, 

Of  the  wet  of  woods — of  the  lapping  of  waves, 

Of  the  mad  pushes  of  waves  upon  the  land — I  them 
chanting  ; 

The  overture  lightly  sounding — the  strain  anticipat 
ing  ; 

The  welcome  nearness — the  sight  of  the  perfect  body  ; 

The  swimmer  swimming  naked  in  the  bath,  or  motion 
less  on  his  back  lying  and  floating ; 

The  female  form  approaching — I,  pensive,  love-flesh 
tremulous,  aching ; 

The  divine  list,  for  myself  or  you,  or  for  any  one,  mak 
ing; 

The  face — the  limbs — the  index  from  head  to  foot,  and 
wjiat  it  arouses ; 

The  mystic  deliria — the  madness  amorous — the  utter 
abandonment ; 

(Hark  close,  and  still,  what  I  now  whisper  to  you, 

1  love  you— 0  you  entirely  possess  me, 


CHILDEEN  OF  ADAM.  99 

O  I  wish,  that  you  and  I  escape  from  the  rest,  and  go 

utterly  off — O  free  and  lawless, 
Two  hawks  in  the  air — two  fishes  swimming  in  the  sea 

not  more  lawless  than  we  ;) 

— The  furious  storm  through  me  careering — I  passion 
ately  trembling  ; 
The  oath  of  the  inseparableness  of  two  together — of  the 

woman  that  loves  me,  and  whom  I  love  more 

than  my  life — that  oath  swearing  ; 
(O  I  willingly  stake  all,  for  you ! 
O  let  me  be  lost,  if  it  must  be  so  ! 
O  you  and  I — what  is  it  to  us  what  the  rest  do  or 

think  ? 
"What  is  all  else  to  us  ?  only  that  we  enjoy  each  other, 

and  exhaust  each  other,  if  it  must  be  so  :) 
— From  the  master — the  pilot  I  yield  the  vessel  to  ; 
The  general  commanding  me,  commanding  all — from 

him  permission  taking ; 
From  time  the  programme  hastening,  (I  have  loiter 'd 

too  long,  as  it  is  ;) 

From  sex — From  the  warp  and  from  the  woof  ; 
(To  talk  to  the  perfect  girl  who  understands  me, 
To  waft  to  her  these  from  my  own  lips — to  effuse  them 

from  my  own  body  ;) 

From  privacy — from  frequent  repinings  alone  ; 
From  plenty  of  persons  near,  and  yet  the  right  person 

not  near  ; 
From  the  soft  sliding  of  hands  over  me,  and  thrusting 

of  fingers  through  my  hair  and  beard  ; 
From   the    long   sustain'd    kiss  upon   the  mouth   or 

bosom  ; 
From  the  close  pressure  that  makes  me  or  any  man 

drunk,  fainting  with  excess  ; 
From  what  the  divine  husband  knows — from  the  work 

of  fatherhood  ; 

From  exultation,  victory,  and  relief — from  the  bedfel 
low's  embrace  in  the  night ; 

From  the  act-poems  of  eyes,  hands,  hips,  and  bosoms, 
From  the  cling  of  the  trembling  arm, 
From  the  bending  curve  and  the  clinch, 
From  side  by  side,  the  pliant  coverlid  off-throwing, 


100  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

From  tine  one  so  unwilling  to  have  me  leave — and  me 

just  as  unwilling  to  leave, 

(Yet  a  moment,  O  tender  waiter,  and  I  return  ;) 
— From  the  hour  of  shining  stars  and  dropping  dews, 
From  the  night,  a  moment,  I,  emerging,  flitting  out, 
Celebrate  you,  act  divine — and  you,  children  prepared 

for, 
And  you,  stalwart  loins. 


I  SING  THE  BODY  ELECTRIC. 

1 

1  I  SING  the  Body  electric  ; 

The  armies  of  those  I  love  engirth  me,  and  I  engirth 

them  ; 
They  will  not  let  me  off  till  I  go  with  them,  respond  to 

them, 
And  discorrupt  them,  and  charge  them  full  with  the 

charge  of  the  Soul. 

2  Was  it  doubted  that  those  who  corrupt  their  own 

bodies  conceal  themselves  ? 
And  if  those  who  defile  the  living  are  as  bad  as  they 

who  defile  the  dead  ? 

And  if  the  body  does  not  do  as  much  as  the  Soul  ? 
And  if  the  body  were  not  the  Soul,  what  is  the  Soul? 


3  The  love  of  the  Body  of  man  or  woman  balks  ac 

count — the  body  itself  balks  account ; 
That  of  the  male  is  perfect,  and  that  of  the  female  is 
perfect. 

4  The  expression  of  the  face  balks  account ; 


CHTLDEEN  OF  ADAM.  101 

But  the  expression  of  a  well-made  man  appears  not 

only  in  his  face  ; 
It  is  in  his  limbs  and  joints  also,  it  is  curiously  in  the 

joints  of  his  hips  and  wrists  ; 
It  is  in  his  walk,  the  carriage  of  his  neck,  the  flex  of  his 

waist  and  knees — dress  does  not  hide  him  ; 
The  strong,  sweet,  supple  quality  he  has,  strikes  through 

the  cotton  and  flannel ; 
To  see  him  pass  conveys  as  much  as  the  best  poem, 

perhaps  more ; 
You  linger  to  see  his  back,  and  the  back  of  his  neck 

and  shoulder-side. 


5  The  sprawl  and  fulness  of  babes,  the  bosoms  and 
heads  of  women,  the  folds  of  their  dress,  their 
style  as  we  pass  in  the  street,  the  contour  of 
their  shape  downwards, 

The  swimmer  naked  in  the  swimming-bath,  seen  as  he 
swims  through  the  transparent  green-shine,  or 
lies  with  his  face  up,  and  rolls  silently  to  and  fro 
in  the  heave  of  the  water, 

The  bending  forward  and  backward  of  rowers  in  row- 
boats — the  horseman  in  his  saddle, 

Girls,  mothers,  house-keepers,  in  all  their  performances, 

The  group  of  laborers  seated  at  noon-time  with  their 
open  dinner-kettles,  and  their  wives  waiting, 

The  female  soothing  a  child — the  farmer's  daughter  in 
the  garden  or  cow-yard, 

The  young  fellow  hoeing  corn — the  sleigh-driver  guiding 
his  six  horses  through  the  crowd, 

The  wrestle  of  wrestlers,  two  apprentice-boys,  quite 
grown,  lusty,  good-natured,  native-born,  out  on 
the  vacant  lot  at  sun-down,  after  work, 

The  coats  and  caps  thrown  down,  the  embrace  of  love 
and  resistance, 

The  upper-hold  and  under-hold,  the  hair  rumpled  over 
and  blinding  the  eyes  ; 

The  march  of  firemen  in  their  own  costumes,  the  play 
of  masculine  muscle  through  clean-setting  trow- 
sers  and  waist-straps, 


102  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  slow  return  from  the  fire,  the  pause  when  the  bell 

strikes  suddenly  again,  and  the  listening  on  the 

alert, 
The  natural,  perfect,  varied  attitudes — the  bent  head, 

the  curv'd  neck,  and  the  counting  ; 
Such-like  I  love — I  loosen  myself,  pass  freely,  am  at  the 

mother's  breast  with  the  little  child, 
Swim  with  the  swimmers,  wrestle  with  wrestlers,  march 

in  line  with  the  firemen,  and  pause,  listen,  and 

count. 

3 

6  I  knew  a  man,  a  common  farmer — the  father  of  five 

sons; 

And  in  them  were  the  fathers  of  sons — and  in  them 
were  the  fathers  of  sons. 

7  This  man  was  of  wonderful  vigor,  calmness,  beauty 

of  person  ; 

The  shape  of  his  head,  the  pale  yellow  and  white  of 
his  hair  and  beard,  and  the  immeasurable  mean 
ing  of  his  black  eyes — the  richness  and  breadth 
of  his  manners, 

These  I  used  to  go  and  visit  him  to  see — he  was  wise 
also ; 

He  was  six  feet  tall,  he  was  over  eighty  years  old — his 
sons  were  massive,  clean,  bearded,  tan-faced, 
handsome  ; 

They  and  his  daughters  loved  him —all  who  saw  him 
loved  him ; 

They  did  not  love  him  by  allowance — they  loved  him 
with  personal  love  ; 

He  drank  water  only — the  blood  show'd  like  scarlet 
through  the  clear -brown  skin  of  his  face  ; 

He  was  a  frequent  gunner  and  fisher  —he  sail'd  his  boat 
himself — he  had  a  fine  one  presented  to  him  by 
a  ship-joiner — he  had  fowling-pieces,  presented 
to  him  by  men  that  loved  him  ; 

When  he  went  with  his  five  sons  and  many  grand-sons 
to  hunt  or  fish,  you  would  pick  him  out.  as  the 
most  beautiful  and  vigorous  of  the  gang, 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  103 

You  would  wish  long  and  long  to  be  with  him — you 
would  wish  to  sit  by  him  in  the  boat,  that  you 
and  he  might  touch"  each  other. 


8  I  have  perceiv'd  that  to  be  with  those  I  like  is  enough, 
To  stop  in  company  with  the  rest  at  evening  is  enough, 
To  be    surrounded    by   beautiful,   curious,   breathing, 

laughing  flesh  is  enough, 

To  pass  among  them,  or  touch  any  one,  or  rest  my  arm 
ever  so  lightly  round  his  or  her  neck  for  a  mo 
ment — what  is  this,  then  ? 

I  do  not  ask  any  more  delight — I  swim  in  it,  as  in  a  sea. 

9  There  is  something  in  staying  close  to  men  and  women, 

and  looking  on  them,  and  in  the  contact  and 
odor  of  them,  that  pleases  the  soul  well ; 
All  things  please  "the  soul — but  these  please  the  soul 
well. 


10  This  is  the  female  form  ; 

A  divine  nimbus  exhales  from  it  from  head  to  foot ; 

It  attracts  with  fierce  undeniable  attraction  ! 

I  am  drawn  by  its  breath  as  if  I  were  no  more  than  a 
helpless  vapor — all  falls  aside  but  myself  and  it ; 

Books,  art,  religion,  time,  the  visible  and  solid  earth, 
the  atmosphere  and  the  clouds,  and  what  was 
expected  of  heaven  or  fear'd  of  hell,  are  now 
consumed ; 

Mad  filaments,  ungovernable  shoots  play  out  of  it — the 
response  likewise  ungovernable  ; 

Hair,  bosom,  hips,  bend  of  legs,  negligent  falling  hands, 
all  diffused — mine  too  diffused  ; 

Ebb  stung  by  the  flow,  and  flow  stung  by  the  ebb — 
love-flesh  swelling  and  deliciously  aching  ; 

Limitless  limpid  jets  of  love  hot  and  enormous,  quiver 
ing  jelly  of  love,  white-blow  and  delirious  juice  ; 

Bridegroom  night  of  love,  working  surely  and  softly 
into  the  prostrate  dawn  ; 


104  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Undulating  into  the  willing  and  yielding  day, 

Lost  in  the  cleave  of  the  clasping  and  sweet-flesh'd  day. 

11  This  is  the  nucleus — after  ihe  child  is  born  of  woman, 

the  man  is  born  of  woman  ; 

This  is  the  bath  of  birth — this  is  the  merge  of  small 
and  large,  and  the  outlet  again. 

12  Be  not  ashamed,  women — your  privilege  encloses  the 

rest,  and  is  the  exit  of  the  rest ; 

You  are  the  gates  of  the  body,  and  you  are  the  gates  of 
the  soul. 

13  The  female  contains  all  qualities,  and  tempers  them 

—she  is  in  her  place,  and  moves  with  perfect 

balance  ; 
She  is  all  things  duly  veil'd — she  is  both  passive  and 

active  ; 
She  is  to  conceive  daughters  as  well  as  sons,  and  sons 

as  well  as  daughters. 

14  As  I  see  my  soul  reflected  in  nature  ; 

As  I  see  through  a  mist,  one  with  inexpressible  com 
pleteness  and  beauty, 

See  the  bent  head,  and  arms  folded  over  the  breast — 
the  female  I  see. 

6 

16  The  male  is  not  less  the  soul,  nor  more — he  too  is  in 
his  place  ; 

He  too  is  all  qualities — he  is  action  and  power  ;    . 

The  flush  of  the  known  universe  is  in  him  ; 

Scorn  becomes  him  well,  and  appetite  and  defiance  be 
come  him  well ; 

The  wildest  largest  passions,  bliss  that  is  utmost,  sor 
row  that  is  utmost,  become  him  well — pride  is 
for  him  ;  , 

The  full-spread  pride  of  man  is  calming  and  excellent 
to  the  soul ; 

Knowledge  becomes  him — he  likes  it  always — he  brings 
everything  to  the  test  of  himself  ; 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  105 

Whatever  the  survey,  whatever  the  sea  and  the  sail,  he 

strikes  soundings  at  last  only  here  ; 
(Where  else  does  he  strike  soundings,  except  here  ?) 

16  The  man's  body  is  sacred,  and  the  woman's  body  is 

sacred ; 

No  matter  who  it  is,  it  is  sacred  ; 
Is  it  a  slave  ?    Is  it  one  of  the  dull-faced  immigrants 

just  landed  on  the  wharf  ? 
Each  belongs  here  or  anywhere,  just  as  much  as  the 

well-off — just  as  much  as  you  ; 
Each  has  his  or  her  place  in  the  procession. 

17  (All  is  a  procession  ; 

The  universe  is  a  procession,  with  measured  and  beau 
tiful  motion.) 

18  Do  you  know  so  much  yourself,  that  you  call  the  slave 

or  the  dull-face  ignorant  ? 

Do  you  suppose  you  have  a  right  to  a  good  sight,  and 
he  or  she  has  no  right  to  a  sight  ? 

Do  you  think  matter  has  cohered  together  from  its  dif 
fuse  float— and  the  soil  is  on  the  surface,  and 
water  runs,  and  vegetation  sprouts, 

For  you  only,  and  not  for  him  and  her  ? 


19  A  man's  Body  at  auction  ; 

I  help  the  auctioneer — the  sloven  does  not  half  know 
his  business. 

20  Gentlemen,  look  on  this  wonder ! 

Whatever  the  bids  of  the  bidders,  they  cannot  be  high 

enough  for  it ; 
For  it  the  globe  lay  preparing  quintillions  of  years, 

without  one  animal  or  plant ; 
For  it  the  revolving  cycles  truly  and  steadily  roll'd. 

21  In  this  head  the  all-baffling  brain  ; 

In  it  and  below  it,  the  makings  of  heroes. 


106  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

22  Examine  these  limbs,  red,  black,  or  white — they  are 

so  cunning  in  tendon  and  nerve  ; 
They  shall  be  stript,  that  you  may  see  them. 

23  Exquisite  senses,  life-lit  eyes,  pluck,  volition, 
Flakes  of  breast-muscle,  pliant  back-bone  and  neck,  flesh 

not  flabby,  good-sized  arms  and  legs, 
And  wonders  within  there  yet. 

24  Within  there  runs  blood, 
The  same  old  blood ! 

The  same  red-running  blood ! 

There  swells  and  jets  a  heart — there  all  passions,  de 
sires,  reachings,  aspirations  ; 

Do  you  think  they  are  not  there  because  they  are  not 
express'd  in  parlors  and  lecture-rooms  ? 

25  This  is  not  only  one  man — this  is  the  father  of  those 

who  shall  be  fathers  in  their  turns  ; 

In  him  the  start  of  populous  states  and  rich  republics  ; 

Of  him  countless  immortal  lives,  with  countless  embod 
iments  and  enjoyments. 

26  How  do  you  know  who  shall  come  from  the  offspring 

of  his  offspring  through  the  centuries  ? 
Who  might  you  find  you  have  come  from  yourself,  if 
you  could  trace  back  through  the  centuries  ? 

8 

27  A  woman's  Body  at  auction ! 

She  too  is  not  only  herself — she  is  the  teeming  mother 

of  mothers  ; 
She  is  the  bearer  of  them  that  shall  grow  and  be  mates 

to  the  mothers. 

28  Have  you  ever  loved  the  Body  of  a  woman  ? 
Have  you  ever  loved  the  Body  of  a  man  ? 
Your  father — where  is  your  father  ? 

Your  mother — is  she  living  ?  have  you  been  much  with 
her?  and  has  she  been  much  with  you  ? 


CHILDEEN  OF  ADAM.  107 

— Do  you  not  see  that  these  are  exactly  the  same  to  all, 
in  all  nations  and  times,  all  over  the  earth  ? 

29  If  any  thing  is  sacred,  the  human  body  is  sacred, 
And  the  glory  and  sweet  of  a  man,  is  the  token  of  man 
hood  untainted ; 

And  in  man  or  woman,  a  clean,  strong,  firm-fibred  body, 
is  beautiful  as  the  most  beautiful  face. 

30  Have  you  seen  the  fool  that  corrupted  his  own  live 

body  ?  or  the  fool  that  corrupted  her  own  live  body  ? 
For  they  do  not  conceal  themselves,  and  cannot  conceal 
themselves. 


31  O  my  Body !  I  dare  not  desert  the  likes  of  you  in 
other  men  and  women,  nor  the  likes  of  the  parts 
of  you ; 

I  believe  the  likes  of  you  are  to  stand  or  fall  with  the 
likes  of  the  Soul,  (and  that  they  are  the  Soul ;) 

I  believe  the  likes  of  you  shall  stand  or  fall  with  my 
poems — and  that  they  are  poems, 

Man's,  woman's,  child's,  youth's,  wife's,  husband's, 
mother's,  father's,  young  man's,  youog  woman's 
poems  ; 

Head,  neck,  hair,  ears,  drop  and  tympan  of  the  ears, 

Eyes,  eye-fringes,  iris  of  the  eye,  eye-brows,  and  the 
waking  or  sleeping  of  the  lids, 

Mouth,  tongue,  lips,  teeth,  roof  of  the  mouth,  jaws,  and 
the  jaw-hinges, 

Nose,  nostrils  of  the  nose,  and  the  partition, 

Cheeks,  temples,  forehead,  chin,  throat,  back  of  the 
neck,  neck-slue, 

Strong  shoulders,  manly  beard,  scapula,  hind-shoulders, 
and  the  ample  side-round  of  the  chest. 

Upper-arm,  arm-pit,  elbow-socket,  lower-arm,  arm- 
sinews,  arm-bones, 

Wrist  and  wrist-joints,  hand,  palm,  knuckles,  thumb, 
fore-finger,  finger-balls,  finger-joints,  finger-nails, 

Broad  breast-front,  curling  hair  of  the  breast,  breast 
bone,  breast-side, 


108  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

Eibs,  belly,  back-bone,  joints  of  the  back-bone, 

Hips,  hip-sockets,  hip -strength,  inward  and  outward 
round,  man-balls,  man-root, 

Strong  set  of  thighs,  well  carrying  the  trunk  above, 

Leg-fibres,  knee,  knee-pan,  upper-leg,  under  leg, 

Ankles,  instep,  foot-ball,  toes,  toe-joints,  the  heel ; 

All  attitudes,  all  the  shapeliness,  all  the  belongings  of 
my  or  your  body,  or  of  any  one's  body,  male  or 
female, 

The  lung-sponges,  the  stomach-sac,  the  bowels  sweet 
and  clean, 

The  brain  in  its  folds  inside  the  skull-frame, 

Sympathies,  heart-valves,  palate-valves,  sexuality,  ma 
ternity, 

Womanhood,  and  all  that  is  a  woman — and  the  man 
that  comes  from  woman, 

The  womb,  the  teats,  nipples,  breast-milk,  tears,  laugh 
ter,  weeping,  love-looks,  love-perturbations  and 
risings, 

The  voice,  articulation,  language,  whispering,  shouting 
aloud, 

Food,  drink,  pulse,  digestion,  sweat,  sleep,  walking, 
swimming, 

Poise  on  the  hips,  leaping,  reclining,  embracing,  arm- 
curving  and  tightening, 

The  continual  changes  of  the  flex  of  the  mouth,  and 
around  the  eyes, 

The  skin,  the  sun-burnt  shade,  freckles,  hair, 

The  curious  sympathy  one  feels,  when  feeling  with  the 
hand  the  naked  meat  of  the  body, 

The  circling  rivers,  the  breath,  and  breathing  it  in  and  out, 

The  beauty  of  the  waist,  and  thence  of  the  hips,  and 
thence  downward  toward  the  knees, 

The  thin  red  jellies  within  you,  or  within  me — the  bones, 
and  the  marrow  in  the  bones, 

The  exquisite  realization  of  health  ; 

O  I  say,  these  are  not  the  parts  and  poems  of  the  Body 
only,  but  of  the  Soul, 

0  I  say  now  these  are  the  Soul ! 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  109 


A  WOMAN  WAITS  FOR  ME. 

1  A  WOMAN  waits  for  me — she  contains  all,  nothing  is 

lacking, 

Yet  all  were  lacking,  if  sex  were  lacking,  or  if  the  mois 
ture  of  the  right  man  were  lacking. 

2  Sex  contains  all, 

Bodies,  Souls,  meanings,  proofs,  purities,  delicacies,  re 
sults,  promulgations, 

Songs,  commands,  health,  pride,  the  maternal  mystery, 
the  seminal  milk ; 

All  hopes,  benefactions,  bestowals, 

All  the  passions,  loves,  beauties,  delights  of  the  earth, 

All  the  governments,  judges,  gods,  follow'd  persons  of 
the  earth, 

These  are  contained  in  sex,  as  parts  of  itself,  and  justi 
fications  of  itself. 

3  Without  shame  the  man  I  like  knows  and  avows  the 

deliciousness  of  his  sex, 
Without  shame  the  woman  I  like  knows  and  avows  hers. 

4  Now  I  will  dismiss  myself  from  impassive  women, 

I  will  go  stay  with  her  who  waits  for  me,  and  with  those 
women  that  are  warm-blooded  and  sufficient  for 
me ; 

I  see  that  they  understand  me,  and  do  not  deny  me  ; 

I  see  that  they  are  worthy  of  me — I  will  be  the  robust 
husband  of  those  women. 

6  They  are  not  one  jot  less  than  I  am, 

They  are  tann'd  in  the  face  by  shining  suns  and  blow 
ing  winds, 

Their  flesh  has  the  old  divine  suppleness  and  strength, 

They  know  how  to  swim,  row,  ride,  wrestle,  shoot,  run, 
strike,  retreat,  advance,  resist,  defend  them 
selves. 


110  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

They  are  ultimate  in  their  own  right — they  are  calm, 
clear,  well-possess'd  of  themselves. 

6  I  draw  you  close  to  me,  you  women ! 

I  cannot  let  you  go,  I  would  do  you  good, 

I  am  for  you,  and  you  are  for  me,  not  only  for  our  own 

sake,  but  for  others'  sakes ; 

Envelop'd  in  you  sleep  greater  heroes  and  bards, 
They  refuse  to  awake  at  the  touch  of  any  man  but  me. 

7  It  is  I,  you  women — I  make  my  way, 

I  am  stern,  acrid,  large,  undissuadable — but  I  love  you, 
I  do  not  hurt  you  any  more  than  is  necessary  for  you, 
I  pour  the  stuff  to  start  sons  and  daughters  fit  for 

These  States — I  press  with  slow  rude  muscle, 
I  brace  myself  effectually — I  listen  to  no  entreaties, 
I  dare  not  withdraw  till  I  deposit  what  has  so  long 

accumulated  within  me. 

8  Through  you  I  drain  the  pent-up  rivers  of  myself, 
In  you  I  wrap  a  thousand  onward  years, 

On  you  I  graft  the  grafts  of  the  best-beloved  of  me  and 

America, 

The  drops  I  distil  upon  you  shall  grow  fierce  and  ath 
letic  girls,  new  artists,  musicians,  and  singers, 
The  babes  I  beget  upon  you  are  to  beget  babes  in  their 

turn, 
I  shall  demand  perfect  men  and  women  out  of  my  love- 

spendings, 
I  shall  expect  them  to  interpenetrate  with  others,  as  I 

and  you  interpenetrate  now, 
I  shall  count  on  the  fruits  of  the  gushing  showers  of 

them,  as  I  count  on  the  fruits  of  the  gushing 

showers  I  give  now, 
I  shall  look  for  loving  crops  from  the  birth,  life,  death, 

immortality,  I  plant  so  lovingly  now. 


CHILDEEN  OF  ADAM.  Ill 


SPONTANEOUS  ME. 

SPONTANEOUS  me,  Nature, 

The  loving  day,  the  mounting  sun,  the  friend  I  am 
happy  with, 

The  arm  of  my  friend  hanging  idly  over  my  shoulder, 

The  hill-side  whiten'd  with  blossoms  of  the  mountain 
ash, 

The  same,  late  in  autumn — the  hues  of  red,  yellow, 
drab,  purple,  and  light  and  dark  green, 

The  rich  coverlid  of  the  grass — animals  and  birds — 
the  private  untrimmM  bank — the  primitive  ap 
ples — the  pebble-stones, 

Beautiful  dripping  fragments — the  negligent  list  of  one 
after  another,  as  I  happen  to  call  them  to  me,  or 
think  of  them, 

The  real  poems,  (what  we  call  poems  being  merely  pic 
tures,) 

The  poems  of  the  privacy  of  the  night,  and  of  men  like 
me, 

This  poem,  drooping  shy  and  unseen,  that  I  always 
carry,  and  that  all  men  carry, 

(Know,  once  for  all,  avow'd  on  purpose,  wherever  are 
men  like  me,  are  our  lusty,  lurking,  masculine 
poems ;) 

Love-thoughts,  love-juice,  love-odor,  love-yielding,  love- 
climbers,  and  the  climbing  sap, 

Arms  and  hands  of  love — lips  of  love — phallic  thumb 
of  love — breasts  of  love — bellies  press'd  and 
glued  together  with  love, 

Earth  of  chaste  love — life  that  is  only  life  after  love, 

The  body  of  my  love — the  body  of  the  woman  I  love — 
the  body  of  the  man — the  body  of  the  earth, 

Soft  forenoon  airs  that  blow  from  the  south-west, 

The  hairy  wild-bee  that  murmurs  and  hankers  up  and 
down — that  gripes  the  full-grown  lady-flower, 
curves  upon  her  with  amorous  firm  legs,  takes 
his  will  of  her,  and  holds  himself  tremulous  and 
tight  till  he  is  satisfied, 


112  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  wet  of  woods  through  the  early  hours, 

Two  sleepers  at  night  lying  close  together  as  they  sleep, 

one  with  an  arm  slanting  down  across  and  below 

the  waist  of  the  other, 
The  smell  of  apples,  aromas  from  crush'd  sage-plant, 

mint,  birch-bark, 

The  boy's  longings,  the  glow  and  pressure  as  he  con 
fides  to  me  what  he  was  dreaming, 
The  dead  leaf  whirling  its  spiral  whirl,  and  falling  still 

and  content  to  the  ground, 
The  no-form'd  stings  that  sights,  people,  objects,  sting 

me  with, 
The  hubb'd  sting  of  myself,  stinging  me  as  much  as  it 

ever  can  any  one, 
The  sensitive,  orbic,  underlapp'd  brothers,  that  only 

privileged  feelers  may  be  intimate  where  they 

are, 
The  curious  roamer,  the  hand,  roaming  all  over  the 

body — the  bashful  withdrawing  of  flesh  where 

the  fingers   soothingly  pause  and  edge  them 
selves. 

The  limpid  liquid  within  the  young  man, 
The  vexed  corrosion,  so  pensive  and  so  painful, 
The  torment — the  irritable  tide  that  will  not  be  at  rest, 
The  like  of  the  same  I  feel — the  like  of  the  same  in 

others, 
The  young  man  that  flushes  and  flushes,  and  the  young 

woman  that  flushes  and  flushes, 
The  young  man  that  wakes,  deep  at  night,  the  hot 

hand    seeking    to   repress   what  would  master 

him  ; 
The  mystic  amorous  night — the  strange  half-welcome 

pangs,  visions,  sweats, 

The  pulse  pounding  through  palms  and  trembling  en 
circling  fingers — the  young  man  all  color'd,  red, 

ashamed,  angry ; 
The  souse  upon  me  of  my  lover  the  sea,  as  I  lie  willing 

and  naked, 
The  merriment  of  the  twin-babes  that  crawl  over  the 

grass  in  the  sun,  the  mother  never  turning  her 

vigilant  eyes  from  them, 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  113 

The  walnut-trunk,  the  walnut-husks,  and  the  ripening 

or  ripen'd  long-round  walnuts  ; 
The  continence  of  vegetables,  birds,  animals, 
The  consequent  meanness  of  me  should  I  skulk  or  find 

myself  indecent,  while  birds  and  animals  never 

once  skulk  or  find  themselves  indecent ; 
The  great  chastity  of  paternity,  to  match  the  great 

chastity  of  maternity, 
The  oath  of  procreation  I  have  sworn — my  Adamic  and 

fresh  daughters, 
The  greed  that  eats  me  day  and  night  with  hungry 

gnaw,  till  I  saturate  what  shall  produce  boys  to 

fill  my  place  when  I  am  through, 
The  wholesome  relief,  repose,  content ; 
And  this  bunch,  pluck'd  at  random  from  myself  ; 
It  has  done  its  work — I  toss  it  carelessly  to  fall  where 

it  may. 


ONE  HOUR  TO  MADNESS  AND  JOY. 

1  ONE  hour  to  madness  and  joy ! 
O  furious  !  O  confine  me  not ! 

(What  is  this  that  frees  me  so  in  storms  ? 
What  do  my  shouts  amid  lightnings  and  raging  winds 
mean  ?) 

2  O  to  drink  the  mystic  deliria  deeper  than  any  other 

man ! 

0  savage  and  tender  achmgs  ! 

(I  bequeath  them  to  you,  my  children, 

1  tell  them  to  you,  for  reasons,  O  bridegroom  and  bride.) 

3  O  to  be  yielded  to  you,  whoever  you  are,  and  you  to 

be  yielded  to  me,  in  defiance  of  the  world  ! 
O  to  return  to  Paradise  !  O  bashful  and  feminine  ! 
O  to  draw  you  to  me — to  plant  on  you  for  the  first  time 

the  lips  of  a  determin'd  man  ! 


114  LEAVES  OF  G-EASS. 

4  O  the  puzzle — the  thrice-tied  knot — the  deep  and  dark 

pool !  O  all  untied  and  illumin'd  ! 
O  to  speed  where  there  is  space  enough  and  air  enough 

at  last ! 
0  to  be  absolved  from  previous  ties  and  conventions — I 

from  mine,  and  you  from  yours  ! 
O  to  find  a  new  unthought-of  nonchalance  with  the  best 

of  nature ! 

O  to  have  the  gag  remov'd  from  one's  mouth ! 
O  to  have  the  feeling,  to-day  or  any  day,  I  am  sufficient 

as  I  am ! 

5  O  something  unprov'd  !  something  in  a  trance  ! 
O  madness  amorous  !  O  trembling  ! 

O  to  escape  utterly  from  others'  anchors  and  holds  ! 

To  drive  free  !  to  love  free  !  to  dash  reckless  and  dan 
gerous  ! 

To  court  destruction  with  taunts — with  invitations ! 

To  ascend — to  leap  to  the  heavens  of  the  love  indicated 
to  me ! 

To  rise  thither  with  my  inebriate  Soul ! 

To  be  lost,  if  it  must  be  so  ! 

To  feed  the  remainder  of  life  with  one  hour  of  fulness 
and  freedom ! 

With  one  brief  hour  of  madness  and  joy. 


WE  Two — How  LONG  WE  WERE  FOOL'D. 

WE  two — how  long  we  were  fool'd ! 

Now  transmuted,  we  swiftly  escape,  as  Nature  escapes  : 

We  are  Nature — long  have  we  been  absent,  but  now  w6 
return ;  , 

We  become  plants,  leaves,  foliage,  roots,  bark  ; 

We  are  bedded  in  the  ground — we  are  rocks  ; 

AVe  are  oaks — we  grow  in  the  openings  side  by  side  ; 

We  browse — we  are  two  among  the  wild  herds,  spon 
taneous  as  any  ; 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  115 

"We  are  two  fishes  swimming  in  the  sea  together  ; 

We  are  what  the  locust  blossoms  are — we  drop  scent 

around  the  lanes,  mornings  and  evenings  ; 
We  are  also  the   coarse   smut  of  beasts,  vegetables, 

minerals  ; 
We  are  two  predatory  hawks — we  soar  above,  and  look 

down ; 
We  are  two  resplendent  suns — we  it  is  who  balance 

ourselves,   orbic    and    stellar — we    are    as   two 

comets  ; 
We  prowl  fang'd  and  four-footed  in  the  woods — we 

spring  on  prey  ; 
We  are  two  clouds,  forenoons  and  afternoons,  driving 

overhead  ; 
We  are  seas  mingling — we  are  two  of  those  cheerful 

waves,  rolling  over  each  other,  and  interwetting 

each  other  ; 
We  are  what  the  atmosphere  is,  transparent,  receptive, 

pervious,  impervious  : 
We  are  snow,  rain,  cold,  darkness — we  are  each  product 

and  influence  of  the  globe  ; 
We  have  circled  and  circled  till  we  have  arrived  home 

again — we  two  have  ; 
We  have  voided  all  but  freedom,  and  all  but  our  own 


OUT  OF  THE  ROLLING  OCEAN,  THE  CROWD. 


OUT  of  the  rolling  ocean,  the  crowd,  came  a  drop  gently 

to  me, 

Whispering,  /  love  you,  before  long  1  die, 
1  have  traveVd  a  long  way,  merely  to  look  on  you,  to  touch 

you, 

For  I  could  not  die  till  I  once  look'd  on  you, 
For  Ifear'd  I  might  afterward  lose  you. 


116.  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

2 

(Now  we  have  met,  we  have  look'd,  we  are  safe  ; 

Return  in  peace  to  the  ocean,  my  love  ; 

I  too  am  part  of  that  ocean,  my  love — we  are  not  so 
much  separated ; 

Behold  the  great  rondure — the  cohesion  of  all,  how  per 
fect! 

But  as  for  me,  for  you,  the  irresistible  sea  is  to  separate 
us, 

As  for  an  hour,  carrying  us  diverse— yet  cannot  carry 
us  diverse  for  ever  ; 

Be  not  impatient — a  little  space — Know  you,  I  salute 
the  air,  the  ocean  and  the  land, 

Every  day,  at  sundown,  for  your  dear  sake,  my  love.) 


NATIVE  MOMENTS. 

NATIVE  moments!  when  you  come  upon  me — Ah  you 

are  here  now ! 

Give  me  now  libidinous  joys  only ! 
Give  me  the  drench  of  my  passions!     Give  me  life 

coarse  and  rank ! 
To-day,  I  go  consort  with  nature's  darlings — to-night 

too; 
I  am  for  those  who  believe  in  loose  delights — I  share 

the  midnight  orgies  of  young  men  ; 
I  dance  with  the  dancers,  and  drink  with  the  drinkers  ; 
The  echoes  ring  with  our  indecent  calls  ; 
I  take  for  my  love  some  prostitute — I  pick  out  some  low 

person  for  my  dearest  friend, 
He  shall  be  lawless,  rude,  illiterate — he  shall  be  one 

condemned  by  others  for  deeds  done  ; 
I  will  play  a  part  no  longer — Why  should  I  exile  myself 

from  my  companions  ? 

0  you  shunn'd  persons !  I  at  least  do  not  shun  you, 

1  come  forthwith  in  your  midst — I  will  be  your  poet, 
I  will  be  more  to  you  than  to  any  of  the  rest. 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  117 


ONCE  I  PASS'D  THROUGH  A  POPULOUS  CITY. 

ONCE  I  pass'd  through  a  populous  city,  imprinting  my 
brain,  for  future  use,  with  its  shows,  architec 
ture,  customs,  and  traditions  ; 

Yet  now,  of  all  that  city,  I  remember  only  a  woman  I 
casually  met  there,  who  detain'd  me  for  love  of 
me  ; 

Day  by  day  and  night  by  night  we  were  together, — All 
else  has  long  been  forgotten  by  me  ; 

I  remember,  I  say,  only  that  woman  who  passionately 
clung  to  me  ; 

Again  we  wander — we  love — we  separate  again  ; 

Again  she  holds  me  by  the  hand — I  must  not  go ! 

I  see  her  close  beside  me,  with  silent  lips,  sad  and  trem 
ulous. 


FACING  WEST  FROM  CALIFORNIA'S  SHORES. 

FACING  west,  from  California's  shores, 

Inquiring,  tireless,  seeking  what  is  yet  unfound, 

I,  a  child,  very  old,  over  waves,  towards  the  house  of 

maternity,  the  land  of  migrations,  look  afar, 
Look  off  the  shores  of 'my  Western  Sea — the  circle 

almost  circled ; 
For,  starting  westward  from  Hindustan,  from  the  vales 

of  Kashmere, 
From  Asia — from  the  north — from  the  God,  the  sage, 

and  the  hero, 
From  the  south — from  the  flowery  peninsulas,  and  the 

spice  islands  ; 
Long  having  wander'd  since — round  the  earth  having 

wander'd, 

Now  I  face  home  again — very  pleas'd  and  joyous  ; 
(But  where  is  what  I  started  for,  so  long  ago  ? 
And  why  is  it  yet  unfound  ?) 


118  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


AGES  AND  AGES,  RETURNING  AT  INTERVALS. 

AGES  and  ages,  returning  at  intervals, 

Undestroy'd,  wandering  immortal, 

Lusty,  phallic,  with  the  potent  original  loins,  perfectly 

sweet, 

I,  chanter  of  Adamic  songs, 
Through  the  new  garden,  the  West,  the  great  cities 

calling, 
Deliriate,  thus  prelude  what  is  generated,  offering  these, 

offering  myself, 

Bathing  myself,  bathing  my  songs  in  Sex, 
Offspring  of  my  loins. 


O  HYMEN!    O  HYMENEE! 

O  HYMEN  !  O  hymenee ! 
Why  do  you  tantalize  me  thus  ? 
O  why  sting  me  for  a  swift  moment  only  ? 
Why  can  you  not  continue  ?    O  why  do  you  now  cease  ? 
Is  it  because,  if  you  continued  beyond  the  swift  mo 
ment,  you  would  soon  certainly  kill  me  ? 


AS  ADAM,  EAELY  IN  THE  MORNING. 

As  Adam,  early  in  the  morning, 
Walking  forth  from  the  bower,  refreshed  with  sleep  ; 
Behold  me  where  I  pass — hear  my  voice — approach, 
Touch  me — touch  the  palm  of  your  hand  to  my  Body 

as  I  pass  ; 
Be  not  afraid  of  my  Body. 


CHILDREN  OF  ADAM.  119 


I  Heard  You,  Solemn-sweet  Pipes  of  the  Organ. 

I  HEARD  you,  solemn-sweet  pipes  of  the  organ,  as  last 

Sunday  morn  I  pass'd  the  church  ; 
Winds  of  autumn ! — as  I  walk'd  the  woods  at  dusk,  I 

heard  your  long-stretch'd  sighs,  up   above,  so 

mournful ; 
I  heard  the  perfect  Italian  tenor,  singing  at  the  opera 

— I  heard  the  soprano  in  the  midst  of  the  quartet 

singing  ; 
. . .  Heart  of  my  love  ! — you  too  I  heard,  murmuring 

low,  through  one  of  the  wrists  around  my  head  ; 
Heard  the  pulse  of  you,  when  all  was  still,  ringing  little 

bells  last  night  under  my  ear. 


I  AM  HE  THAT  ACHES  WITH  LOVE. 

I  AM  he  that  aches  with  amorous  love  ; 

Does  the  earth  gravitate  ?     Does  not  all  matter,  aching, 

attract  all  matter  ? 
So  the  Body  of  me,  to  all  I  meet,  or  know. 


120  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


To  HIM  THAT  WAS  CRUCIFIED. 

MY  spirit  to  yours,  dear  brother ; 

Do  not  mind  because  many,  sounding  your  name,  do 
not  understand  you  ; 

I  do  not  sound  your  name,  but  I  understand  you,  (there 
are  others  also ;) 

I  specify  you  with  joy,  O  my  comrade,  to  salute  you, 
and  to  salute  those  who  are  with  you,  before  and 
since — and  those  to  come  also, 

That  we  all  labor  together,  transmitting  the  same 
charge  and  succession ; 

"We  few,  equals,  indifferent  of  lands,  indifferent  of 
tunes  ; 

We,  enclosers  of  all  continents,  all  castes — allowers  of 
all  theologies, 

Compassionaters,  perceivers,  rapport  of  men, 

We  walk  silent  among  disputes  and  assertions,  but 
reject  not  the  disputers,  nor  any  thing  that  is 
asserted ; 

We  hear  the  bawling  and  din — we  are  reach'd  at  by 
divisions^  jealousies,  recriminations  on  every 
side, 

They  close  peremptorily  upon  us,  to  surround  us,  my 
comrade, 

Yet  we  walk  unheld,  free,  the  whole  earth  over,  jour 
neying  up  and  down,  till  we  make  our  inefface 
able  mark  upon  time  and  the  diverse  eras, 

Till  we  saturate  time  and  eras,  that  the  men  and  wo 
men  of  races,  ages  to  come,  may  prove  brethren 
and  lovers,  as  we  are. 


PERFECTIONS. 

ONLY  themselves  understand  themselves,  and  the  like 

of  themselves, 
As  Souls  pnly  understand  Souls. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


CALAMUS. 


IN    PATHS    UNTRODDEN. 

IN  paths  untrodden, 

In  the  growth  by  margins  of  pond-waters, 

Escaped  from  the  life  that  exhibits  itself, 

From  all  the  standards  hitherto  publish'd — from  the 

pleasures,  profits,  eruditions,  conformities, 
Which  too  long  I  was  offering  to  feed  my  soul ; 
Clear  to  me,  now,  standards  not  yet  publish'd — clear  to 

me  that  my  Soul, 
That  the  Soul  of  the  man  I  speak  for,  feeds,  rejoices 

most  in  comrades  ; 

Here,  by  myself,  away  from  the  clank  of  the  world, 
Tallying  and  talk'd  to  here  by  tongues  aromatic, 
No  longer  abash'd — for  in  this  secluded  spot  I  can  re 
spond  as  I  would  not  dare  elsewhere, 
Strong  upon  me  the  life  that  does  not  exhibit  itself,  yet 

contains  all  the  rest, 
Besolv'd  to  sing  no  songs  to-day  but  those  of  manly 

attachment, 

Projecting  them  along  that  substantial  life, 
Bequeathing,  hence,  types  of  athletic  love, 
Afternoon,  this  delicious  Ninth-month,  in  my  forty-first 

year, 

I  proceed,  for  all  who  are,  or  have  been,  young  men, 
To  tell  the  secret  of  my  nights  and  days, 
To  celebrate  the  need  of  comrades. 
6 


122  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 


SCENTED  HERBAGE  OF  MY  BREAST. 

SCENTED  herbage  of  my  breast, 

Leaves  from  you  I  yield,  I  write,  to  be  perused  best 
afterwards, 

Tomb-leaves,  body-leaves,  growing  up  above  me,  above 
death, 

Perennial  roots,  tall  leaves — O  the  winter  shall  not 
freeze  you,  delicate  leaves, 

Every  year  shall  you  bloom  again — Out  from  where  you 
retired,  you  shall  emerge  again  ; 

O  I  do  not  know  whether  many,  passing  by,  will  dis 
cover  you,  or  inhale  your  faint  odor — but  I  be 
lieve  a  few  will ; 

O  slender  leaves !  O  blossoms  of  my  blood !  I  permit 
you  to  tell,  in  your  own  way,  of  the  heart  that 
is  under  you  ; 

O  burning  and  throbbing — surely  all  will  one  day  be 
accomplish'd  ; 

0  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  there  underneath 

yourselves — you  are  not  happiness, 
You  are  often  more  bitter  than  I  can  bear — you  burn 

and  sting  me, 
Yet  you  are  very  beautiful   to   me,  you  faint-tinged 

roots — you  make  me  think  of  Death, 
Death  is  beautiful  from  you — (what  indeed  is  finally 

beautiful,  except  Death  and  Love  ?) 
— O  I  think  it  is  not  for  life  I  am  chanting  here  my 

chant  of  lovers — I  think  it  must  be  for  Death, 
For  how  calm,  how  solemn  it  grows,  to  ascend  to  the 

atmosphere  of  lovers, 
Death  or  life  I  am  then  indifferent — my  Soul  declines 

to  prefer, 

1  am  not  sure  but  the  high  Soul  of  lovers  welcomes 

death  most ; 

Indeed,  O  Death,  I  think  now  these  leaves  mean  pre 
cisely  the  same  as  you  mean ; 

Grow  up  taller,  sweet  leaves,  that  I  may  see !  grow  up 
out  of  my  breast ! 


CALAMUS.  123 

Spring  away  from  the  conceal'd  heart  there  ! 

Do  not  fold  yourself  so  in  your  pink-tinged  roots,  timid 

leaves ! 
Do  not  remain  down  there  so  ashamed,  herbage  of  my 

breast ! 
Come,  I  am  determin'd  to  unbare  this  broad  breasfc  of 

mine — I  have  long  enough  stifled  and  choked  : 
— Emblematic  and  capricious  blades,  I  leave  you — now 

you  serve  me  not ; 

Away !  I  will  say  what  I  have  to  say,  by  itself, 
I  will  escape  from  the  sham  that  was  proposed  to  me, 
I  will  sound  myself  and  comrades  only — I  will  never 

again  utter  a  call,  only  their  call, 
I  will  raise,  with  it,  immortal  reverberations  through 

The  States, 
I  will  give  an  example  to  lovers,  to  take  permanent 

shape  and  will  through  The  States  ; 
Through  me  shall  the  words  be  said  to  make  death 

exhilarating  ; 

Give  me  your  tone  therefore,  O  Death,  that  I  may  ac 
cord  with  it, 
Give  me  yourself — for  I  see  that  you  belong  to  me  now 

above  all,  and  are  folded  inseparably  together — 

you  Love  and  Death  are  ; 
Nor  will  I  allow  you  to  balk  me  any  more  with  what  I 

was  calling  life, 
For  now  it  is  convey'd  to  me  that  you  are  the  purports 

essential, 
That  you  hide  in  these  shifting  forms  of  life,  for  reasons 

— and  that  they  are  mainly  for  you, 
That  you,  beyond  them,  come  forth,  to  remain,  the  real 

reality, 
That  behind  the  mask  of  materials  you  patiently  wait, 

no  matter  how  long, 

That  you  will  one  day,  perhaps,  take  control  of  all, 
That  you  will  perhaps  dissipate  this  entire  show  of 

appearance, 
That  may-be  you  are  what  it  is  all  for — but  it  does  not 

last  so  very  long  ; 
But  you  will  last  very  long. 


124  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


Whoever  you  are,  Holding  me  now  in  Hand. 

1  WHOEVEE  you  are,  holding  me  now  in  hand, 

Without  one  thing,  all  will  be  useless, 

I  give  you  fair  warning,  before  you  attempt  me  further, 

1  am  not  what  you  supposed,  but  far  different. 

2  Who  is  he  that  would  become  my  follower  ? 

Who  would  sign  himself  a  candidate  for  my  affections  ? 

8  The  way  is  suspicious — the  result  uncertain,  perhaps 
destructive ; 

You  would  have  to  give  up  all  else — I  alone  would  ex 
pect  to  be  your  God,  sole  and  exclusive, 

Your  novitiate  would  even  then  be  long  and  exhausting, 

The  whole  past  theory  of  your  life,  and  all  conformity 
to  the  lives  around  you,  would  have  to  be  aban- 
don'd  ; 

Therefore  release  me  now,  before  troubling  yourself  any 
further — Let  go  your  hand  from  my  shoulders, 

Put  me  down,  and  depart  on  your  way. 

4  Or  else,  by  stealth,  in  some  wood,  for  trial, 

Or  back  of  a  rock,  in  the  open  air, 

(For  in  any  roof 'd  room  of  a  house  I  emerge  not — nor 
in  company, 

And  in  libraries  I  lie  as  one  dumb,  a  gawk,  or  unborn, 
or  dead,) 

But  just  possibly  with  you  on  a  high  hill — first  watch 
ing  lest  any  person,  for  miles  around,  approach 
unawares, 

Or  possibly  with  you  sailing  at  sea,  or  on  the  beach  of 
the  sea,  or  some  quiet  island, 

Here  to  put  your  lips  upon  mine  I  permit  you, 

With  the  comrade's  long-dwelling  kiss,  or  the  new  hus 
band's  kiss, 

For  I  am  the  new  husband,  and  I  am  the  comrade. 

6  Or,  if  you  will,  thrusting  me  beneath  your  clothing, 


CALAMUS.  125 

Where  I  may  feel  the  throbs  of  your  heart,  or  rest  upon 

yoirr  hip, 

Carry  me  when  you  go  forth  over  land  or  sea  ; 
For  thus,  merely  touching  you,  is  enough — is  best, 
And  thus,  touching  you,  would  I  silently  sleep  and  be 

carried  eternally. 

6  But  these  leaves  conning,  you  con  at  peril, 

For  these  leaves,  and  me,  you  will  not  understand, 
They  will  elude  you  at  first,  and  still  more  afterward — 

I  will  certainly  elude  you, 
Even  while  you  should  think  you  had  unquestionably 

caught  me,  behold ! 
Already  you  see  I  have  escaped  from  you. 

7  For  it  is  not  for  what  I  have  put  into  it  that  I  have 

written  this  book, 

Nor  is  it  by  reading  it  you  will  acquire  it, 
Nor  do  those  know  me  best  who  admire  me,  and  vaunt- 

ingly  praise  me, 
Nor  will  the  candidates  for  my  love,  (unless  at  most  a 

very  few,)  prove  victorious, 
Nor  will  my  poems  do  good  only — they  will  do  just  as 

much  evil,  perhaps  more  ; 
For  all  is  useless  without  that  which  you  may  guess  at 

many  times  and  not  hit — that  which  I  hinted  at ; 
Therefore  release  me,  and  depart  on  your  way. 


THESE  I,  SINGING  IN  SPRING. 

THESE,  I,  singing  in  spring,,  collect  for  lovers, 

(For  who  but  I  should  understand  lovers,  and  all  their 

sorrow  and  joy  ? 

And  who  but  I  should  be  the  poet  of  comrades  ?) 
Collecting,  I  traverse  the  garden,  the  world — but  soon 

I  pass  the  gates, 


126  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

Now  along  the  pond-side — now  wading  in  a  little,  fear 
ing  not  the  wet, 

Now  by  the  post-and-rail  fences,  where  the  old  stones 
thrown  there,  pick'd  from  the  fields,  have  accu 
mulated, 

(Wild-flowers  and  vines  and  weeds  come  up  through 
the  stones,  and  partly  cover  them — Beyond  these 
I  pass,) 

Far,  far  in  the  forest,  before  I  think  where  I  go, 

Solitary,  smelling  the  earthy  smell,  stopping  now  and 
then  in  the  silence, 

Alone  I  had  thought — yet  soon  a  troop  gathers  around 
me, 

Some  walk  by  my  side,  and  some  behind,  and  some  em 
brace  my  arms  or  neck, 

They,  the  spirits  of  dear  friends,  dead  or  alive — thicker 
they  come,  a  great  crowd,  and  I  in  the  middle, 

Collecting,  dispensing,  singing  in  spring,  there  I  wander 
with  them, 

Plucking  something  for  tokens — tossing  toward  whoever 
is  near  me  ; 

Here  !  lilac,  with  a  branch  of  pine, 

Here,  out  of  my  pocket,  some  moss  which  I  pull'd  off  a 
live-oak  in  Florida,  as  it  hung  trailing  down, 

Here,  some  pinks  and  laurel  leaves,  and  a  handful  of 


And  here  what  I  now  draw  from  the  water,  wading  in 
the  pond-side, 

(O  here  I  last  saw  him  that  tenderly  loves  me — and  re 
turns  again,  never  to  separate  from  me, 

And  this,  O  this  shall  henceforth  be  the  token  of  com 
rades — this  Calamus-root  shall, 

Interchange  it,  youths,  with  each  other!  Let  none 
render  it  back !) 

And  twigs  of  maple,  and  a  bunch  of  wild  orange,  and 
chestnut, 

And  stems  of  currants,  and  plum-blows,  and  the  aro 
matic  cedar  : 

These,  I,  compass'd  around  by  a  thick  cloud  of  spirits, 

Wandering,  point  to,  or  touch  as  I  pass,  or  throw  them 
loosely  from  me, 


CALAMUS.  127 

Indicating  to  each  one  what  he  shall  have — giving  some 
thing  to  each  ; 

But  what  I  drew  from  the  water  by  the  pond-side,  that 
I  reserve, 

I  will  give  of  it— but  only  to  them  that  love,  as  I  my 
self  am  capable  of  loving. 


A  SONG. 


COME,  I  will  make  the  continent  indissoluble  ; 

I  will  make  the  most  splendid  race  the  sun  ever  yet 

shone  upon  ; 

I  will  make  divine  magnetic  lands, 
With  the  love  of  comrades, 

With  the  life-long  love  of  comrades. 


I  will  plant  companionship  thick  as  trees  along  all  the 
rivers  of  America,  and  along  the  shores  of  the 
great  lakes,  and  all  over  the  prairies  ; 
I  will  make  inseparable  cities,  with  their  arms  about 
each  other's  necks ; 
By  the  love  of  comrades, 

By  the  manly  Jove  of  comrades. 


For  you  these,  from  me,  O  Democracy,  to  serve  you, 

ma  femme ! 

For  you !  for  you,  I  am  trilling  these  songs, 
In  the  love  of  comrades, 
In  the  high-towering  love  of  comrades. 


128  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


NOT  HEAVING  FROM  MY  RIBB'D  BREAST  ONLY. 

NOT  heaving  from  my  ribb'd  breast  only ; 

Not  in  sighs  at  night,  in  rage,  dissatisfied  with  myself  ; 

Not  in  those  long-drawn,  iU-supprest  sighs  ; 

Not  in  many  an  oath  and  promise  broken  ; 

Not  in  my  wilful  and  savage  soul's  volition  ; 

Not  in  the  subtle  nourishment  of  the  air  ; 

Not  in  this  beating  and  pounding  at  my  temples  and 

wrists ; 
Not  in  the  curious  systole  and  diastole  within,  which 

will  one  day  cease  ; 

Not  in  many  a  hungry  wish,  told  to  the  skies  only  ; 
Not  in  cries,  laughter,  defiances,  thrown  from  me  when 

alone,  far  in  the  wilds  ; 

Not  in  husky  pantings  through  clench'd  teeth  ; 
Not  in  sounded  and  resounded  words — chattering  words, 

echoes,  dead  words ; 

Not  in  the  murmurs  of  my  dreams  while  I  sleep, 
Nor  the  other  murmurs  of  these  incredible  dreams  of 

every  day  ; 
Nor  in  the  limbs  and  senses  of  my  body,  that  take  you 

and  dismiss  you  continually — Not  there  ; 
Not  in  any  or  all  of  them,  O  adhesiveness !  O  pulse  of 

my  life ! 
Need  I  that  you  exist  and  show  yourself,  any  more  than 

in  these  songs. 


OF  THE  TERRIBLE  DOUBT  OF  APPEARANCES. 

OF  the  terrible  doubt  of  appearances, 

Of  the  uncertainty  after  all — that  we  may  be  deluded, 

That  may-be  reliance  and  hope  are  but  speculations 

after  all, 
That  may-be  identity  beyond  the  grave  is  a  beautiful 

fable  only, 


CALAMUS.  129 

May-be  the  things  I  perceive — the  animals,  plants,  men, 
hills,  shining  and  flowing  waters, 

The  skies  of  day  and  night — colors,  densities,  forms — 
May-be  these  are,  (as  doubtless  they  are,)  only 
apparitions,  and  the  real  something  has  yet  to  be 
known  ; 

(How  often  they  dart  out  of  themselves,  as  if  to  con 
found  me  and  mock  me ! 

How  often  I  think  neither  I  know,  nor  any  man  knows, 
aught  of  them  ;) 

May-be  seeming  to  me  what  they  are,  (as  doubtless  they 
indeed  but  seem,)  as  from  my  present  point  of 
view — And  might  prove,  (as  of  course  they 
would,)  naught  of  what  they  appear,  or  naught 
any  how,  from  entirely  changed  points  of  view  ; 

— To  me,  these,  and  the  like  of  these,  are  curiously  an- 
swer'd  by  my  lovers,  my  dear  friends  ; 

When  he  whom  I  love  travels  with  me,  or  sits  a  long 
while  holding  me  loj  the  hand, 

When  the  subtle  air,  the  impalpable,  the  sense  that 
words  and  reason  hold  not,  surround  us  and 
pervade  us, 

Then  I  am  charged  with  untold  and  untellable  wisdom 
— I  am  silent — I  require  nothing  further, 

I  cannot  answer  the  question  of  appearances,  or  that 
of  identity  beyond  the  grave  ; 

But  I  walk  or  sit  indifferent — I  am  satisfied, 

He  ahold  of  my  hand  has  completely  satisfied  me. 


The  Base  of  all  Metaphysics. 

1  AND  now,  gentlemen, 

A  word  I  give  to  remain  in  your  memories  and  minds, 
As  base,  and  finale  too,  for  all  metaphysics. 

2  (So,  to  the  students,  the  old  professor, 
At  the  close  of  his  crowded  course.) 


130  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

3  Having  studied  the  new  and  antique,  the  Greek  and 

Germanic  systems, 
Kant  having  studied  and  stated — Fichte  and  Schelling 

and  Hegel, 
Stated  the  lore  of  Plato — and  Socrates,  greater  than 

Plato, 
And  greater  than  Socrates  sought  and  stated — Christ 

divine  having  studied  long, 
I  see  reminiscent  to-day  those  Greek  and  Germanic 

systems, 
See  the  philosophies  all — Christian  churches  and  tenets 

see, 
Yet  underneath  Socrates  clearly  see — and  underneath 

Christ  the  divine  I  see, 
The  dear  love  of  man  for  his  comrade — the  attraction 

of  friend  to  friend, 
Of  the  well-married  husband  and  wife — of  children  and 

parents, 
Of  city  for  city,  and  land  for  land. 


RECORDERS  AGES  HENCE. 

RECORDERS  ages  hence ! 

Come,  I  will  take  you  down  underneath  this  impassive 
exterior — I  will  tell  you  what  to  say  of  me  ; 

Publish  my  name  and  hang  up  my  picture  as  that  of 
the  tenderest  lover, 

The  friend,  the  lover's  portrait,  of  whom  his  friend,  his 
lover,  was  fondest, 

Who  was  not  proud  of  his  songs,  but  of  the  measure 
less  ocean  of  love  within  him — and  freely  pour'd 
it  forth, 

"Who  often  walk'd  lonesome  walks,  thinking  of  his  dear 
friends,  his  lovers, 

Who  pensive,  away  from  one  he  lov'd,  often  lay  sleep 
less  and  dissatisfied  at  night, 


CALAMUS.  131 

Who  knew  too  well  the  sick,  sick  dread  lest  the  one  he 
lov'd  might  secretly  be  indifferent  to  him, 

Whose  happiest  days  were  far  away,  through  fields,  in 
woods,  on  hills,  he  and  another,  wandering  hand 
in  hand,  they  twain,  apart  from  other  men, 

Who  oft  as  he  saunter'd  the  streets,  curv'd  with  his 
arm  the  shoulder  of  his  friend — while  the  arm 
of  his  friend  rested  upon  him  also. 


WHEN  I  HEARD  AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  DAY. 

WHEN  I  heard  at  the  close  of  the  day  how  my  name 
had  been  received  with  plaudits  in  the  capitol, 
still  it  was  not  a  happy  night  for  me  that  foi- 
low'd ; 

And  else,  when  I  carous'd,  or  when  my  plans  were 
accomplish'd,  still  I  was  not  happy ; 

But  the  day  when  I  rose  at  dawn  from  the  bed  of  per 
fect  health,  refresh'd,  singing,  inhaling  the  ripe 
breath  of  autumn, 

When  I  saw  the  full  moon  in  the  west  grow  pale  and 
disappear  in  the  morning  light, 

When  I  wander'd  alone  over  the  beach,  and  undress 
ing,  bathed,  laughing  with  the  cool  waters,  and 
saw  the  sun  rise, 

And  when  I  thought  how  my  dear  friend,  my  lover,  was 
on  his  way  coming,  O  then  I  was  happy ; 

0  then  each  breath  tasted  sweeter — and  all  that  day  my 

food  nourish'd  me  more — and  the  beautiful  day 

pass'd  well, 
And  the  next  came  with  equal  joy — and  with  the  next, 

at  evening,  came  my  friend  ; 
And  that  night,  while  all  was  still,  I  heard  the  waters 

roll  slowly  continually  up  the  shores, 

1  heard  the  hissing  rustle  of  the  liquid  and  sands,  as 

directed  to  me,  whispering,  to  congratulate  me, 


132  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

For  the  one  I  love  most  lay  sleeping  by  me  under  the 

same  cover  in  the  cool»night, 
In  the  stillness,  in  the  autumn  moonbeams,  his  face  was 

inclined  toward  me, 
And  his  arm  lay  lightly  around  my  breast— and  that 

night  I  was  happy. 


Are  You  the  New  Person  drawn  toward  Me? 

ARE  you  the  new  person  drawn  toward  me  ? 

To  begin  with,  take  warning — I  am  surely  far  different 
from  what  you  suppose  ; 

Do  you  suppose  you  will  find  in  me  your  ideal  ? 

Do  you  think  it  so  easy  to  have  me  become  your  lover  ? 

Do  you  think  the  friendship  of  me  would  be  unalloy'd 
satisfaction  ? 

Do  you  think  I  am  trusty  and  faithful  ? 

Do  you  see  no  further  than  this  faQade — this  smooth 
and  tolerant  manner  of  me  ? 

Do  you  suppose  yourself  advancing  on  real  ground  to 
ward  a  real  heroic  man  ? 

Have  you  no  thought,  O  dreamer,  that  it  may  be  all 
maya,  illusion  ? 


Roots  and  Leaves  Themselves  Alone. 

ROOTS  and  leaves  themselves  alone  are  these  ; 

Scents  brought  to  men  and  women  from  the  wild  woods, 

and  from  the  pond-side, 
Breast-sorrel   and   pinks   of    love — fingers   that   wind 

around  tighter  than  vines, 
Gushes  from  the  throats  of  birds,  hid  in  the  foliage  of 

trees,  as  the  sun  is  risen  ; 


CALAMUS..  133 

Breezes   of    land  and  love — breezes   set   from   living 

shores  out  to  you  on  the  living  sea — to  you,  O 

sailors ! 
Frost-mellow'd  berries,  and  Third-month  twigs,  offer'd 

fresh  to  young  persons  wandering  out  in  the 

fields  when  the  winter  breaks  up, 
Love-buds,  put  before  you  and  within  you,  whoever  you 

are, 

Buds  to  bo  unfolded  on  the  old  terms  ; 
If  you  bring  the  warmth  of  the  sun  to  them,  they  will 

open,  and  bring  form,  color,  perfume,  to  you  ; 
If  you  become  the  aliment  and  the  wet,  they  will  become 

flowers,  fruits,  tall  branches  and  trees. 


Not  Heat  Flames  up  and  Consumes. 

NOT  heat  flames  up  and  consumes, 

Not  sea-waves  hurry  in  and  out, 

Not  the  air,  delicious  and  dry,  the  air  of  the  ripe  sum 
mer,  bears  lightly  along  white  down-balls  of 
myriads  of  seeds, 

Wafted,  sailing  gracefully,  to  drop  where  they  may  ; 

Not  these— O  none  of  these,  more  than  the  flames  of 
me,  consuming,  burning  for  his  love  whom  I  love ! 

O  none,  more  than  I,  hurrying  in  and  out : 

— Does  the  tide  hurry,  seeking  something,  and  never 
give  up  ?  O  I  the  same  ; 

O  nor  down-balls,  nor  perfumes,  nor  the  high,  rain- 
emitting  clouds,  are  borne  through  the  open  air, 

Any  more  than  my  Soul  is  borne  through  the  open 
air, 

Wafted  in  all  directions,  O  love,  for  friendship,  for 
you. 


134  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


Trickle,   Drops. 


TRICKLE,  drops!  my  blue  veins  leaving! 

O  drops  of  me !  trickle,  slow  drops, 

Candid,  from  me  falling — drip,  bleeding  drops, 

From  wounds   made   to   free  you  whence  you   were 

prison'd, 

From  my  face — from  my  forehead  and  lips, 
From  my  breast — from  within  where  I  was  conceal'd — 

press  forth,  red  drops — confession  drops  ; 
Stain  every  page — stain  every  song  I  sing,  every  word 

I  say,  bloody  drops  ; 

Let  them  know  your  scarlet  heat — let  them  glisten  ; 
Saturate  them  with  yourself,  all  ashamed  and  wet ; 
Glow  upon  all  I  have  written,  or  shall  write,  bleeding 

drops ; 
Let  it  all  be  seen  in  your  light,  blushing  drops. 


City  of  Orgies. 


CITY  of  orgies,  walks  and  joys ! 

City  whom  that  I  have  lived  and  sung  in  your  midst 
will  one  day  make  you  illustrious. 

Not  the  pageants  of  you — not  your  shifting  tableaux, 
your  spectacles,  repay  me  ; 

Not  the  interminable  rows  of  your  houses — nor  the 
ships  at  the  wharves, 

Nor  the  processions  in  the  streets,  nor  the  bright  win 
dows,  with  goods  in  them  ; 

Nor  to  converse  with  learn'd  persons,  or  bear  my  share 
in  the  soiree  or  feast ; 

Not  those — but,  as  I  pass,  O  Manhattan !  your  frequent 
and  swift  flash  of  eyes  offering  me  love, 

Offering  response  to  my  own — these  repay  me  ; 

Lovers,  continual  lovers,  only  repay  ine. 


135 


Behold  this  Swarthy  Face. 


BEHOLD  this  swarthy  face — these  gray  eyes, 

This  beard — the  white  wool,  unclipt  upon  my  neck, 

My  brown  hands,  and  the  silent  manner  of  me,  without 

charm ; 
Yet  comes  one,  a  Manhattan  ese,  and  ever  at  parting, 

kisses  me  lightly  on  the  lips  with  robust  love, 
And  I,  on  the  crossing  of  the  street,  or  on  the  ship's 

deck,  give  a  kiss  in  return  ; 
We  observe  that  salute  of  American  comrades,  land  and 

sea, 
We  are  those  two  natural  and  nonchalant  persons. 


I  saw  in  Louisiana  a  Live-Oak  Growing. 

I  SAW  in  Louisiana  a  live-oak  growing, 

All  alone  stood  it,  and  the  moss  hung  down  from  the 

branches ; 
Without  any  companion  it  grew  there,  uttering  joyous 

leaves  of  dark  green, 
And  its  look,  rude,  unbending,  lusty,  made  me  think  of 

myself ; 

But  I  wonder'd  how  it  could  utter  joyous  leaves,  stand 
ing  alone  there,  without  its  friend,  its  lover  near 

— for  I  knew  I  could  not ; 
And  I  broke  off  a  twig  with  a  certain  number  of  leaves 

upon  it,  and  twined  around  it  a  little  moss, 
And  brought  it  away — and  I  have  placed  it  in  sight  in 

my  room  ; 

It  is  not  needed  to  remind  me  as  of  my  own  dear  friends, 
(For  I  believe  lately  I  think  of  little  else  than  of  them  ;) 
Yet  it  remains  to  me  a  curious  token — it  makes  me 

think  of  manly  love  ; 
For  all  that,  and  though  the  live-oak  glistens  there  in 

Louisiana,  solitary,  in  a  wide  flat  space, 
Uttering  joyous  leaves  all  its  life,  without  a  friend,  a 

lover,  near, 
I  know  very  well  I  could  not. 


136  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 


TO  A  STRANGER. 

PASSING  stranger!  you  do  not  know  how  longingly  I 

look  upon  you, 
You  must  be  he  I  was  seeking,  or  she  I  was  seeking,  (it 

comes  to  me,  as  of  a  dream,) 

I  have  somewhere  surely  lived  a  life  of  joy  with  you, 
AD  is  recalled  as  we  flit  by  each  other,  fluid,  affectionate, 

chaste,  matured, 
You  grew  up  with  me,  were  a  boy  with  me,  or  a  girl 

with  me, 

I  ate  with  you,  and  slept  with  you — your  body  has  be 
come  not  yours  only,  nor  left  my  body  mine  only, 
You  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  eyes,  face,  flesh,  as 

we  pass — you  take  of  my  beard,  breast,  hands, 

in  return, 
I  am  not  to  speak  to  you — I  am  to  think  of  you  when  I 

sit  alone,  or  wake  at  night  alone, 
I  am  to  wait — I  do  not  doubt  I  am  to  meet  you  again, 
I  am  to  see  to  it  that  I  do  not  lose  you. 


This  Moment,  Yearning  and  Thoughtful. 

THIS  moment  yearning  and  thoughtful,  sitting  alone, 
It  seems  to  me  there  are  other  men  in  other  lands, 

yearning  and  thoughtful ; 
It  seems  to  me  I  can  look  over  and  behold  them,  m 

Germany,  Italy,  France,  Spain — or  far,  far  away, 

in  China,  or  in  Russia  or  India — talking  other 

dialects  ; 
And  it  seems  to  me  if  I  could  know  those  men,  I  should 

become  attached  to  them,  as  I  do  to  men  in  my 

own  lands  ; 

0  I  know  we  should  be  brethren  and  lovers, 

1  know  I  should  be  happy  with  them. 


CALAMUS.  137 


I  Hear  it  was  Charged  Against  Me. 

I  HEAR  it  was  charged  against  me  that  I  sought  to  de 
stroy  institutions  ; 

But  really  I  am  neither  for  nor  against  institutions  ; 

(What  indeed  have  I  in  common  with  them? — Or  what 
with  the  destruction  of  them?) 

Only  I  will  establish  in  the  Mannahatta,  and  in  every 
city  of  These  States,  inland  and  seaboard, 

And  in  the  fields  and  woods,  and  above  every  keel, 
little  or  large,  that  dents  the  water, 

Without  edifices,  or  rules,  or  trustees,  or  any  argu 
ment, 

The  institution  of  the  dear  love  of  comrades. 


The  Prairie-Grass  Dividing. 

THE  prairie-grass  dividing — its  special  odor  breathing, 

I  demand  of  it  the  spiritual  corresponding, 

Demand  the  most  copious  and  close  companionship  of 
men, 

Demand  the  blades  to  rise  of  words,  acts,  beings, 

Those  of  the  open  atmosphere,  coarse,  sunlit,  fresh, 
nutritious, 

Those  that  go  their  own  gait,  erect,  stepping  with  free 
dom  and  command — leading,  not  following, 

Those  with  a  never-quell'd  audacity — those  with  sweet 
and  lusty  flesh,  clear  of  taint, 

Those  that  look  carelessly  in  the  faces  of  Presidents 
and  Governors,  as  to  say,  Who  are  you  ? 

Those  of  earth-born  passion,  simple,  never-constrain'd, 
never  obedient, 

Those  of  inland  America. 


138  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 


We  Two  Boys  Together  Clinging. 

WE  two  boys  together  clinging, 

One  the  other  never  leaving, 

Up  and  down  the  roads  going — North  and  South  excur 
sions  making, 

Power  enjoying — elbows  stretching — fingers  clutching, 

Arm'd  and  fearless — eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  loving, 

No  law  less  than  ourselves  owning — sailing,  soldiering, 
thieving,  threatening, 

Misers,  menials,  priests  alarming — air  breathing,  water 
drinking,  on  the  turf  or  the  sea-beach  dancing, 

Cities  wrenching,  ease  scorning,  statutes  mocking,  fee 
bleness  chasing, 
our  foray. 


A  PROMISE  TO  CALIFORNIA. 

A  PROMISE  to  California, 

Also  to  the  great  Pastoral  Plains,  and  for  Oregon  : 

Sojourning  east  a  while  longer,  soon  I  travel  toward 

you,  to  remain,  to  teach  robust  American  love  ; 
For  I  know  very  well  that  I  and  robust  love  belong 

among  you,  inland,  and  along  the  Western  Sea  ; 
For  These  States  tend  inland,  and  toward  the  Western 

Sea — and  I  will  also. 


HERE  THE  FRAILEST  LEAVES  OF  ME. 

HERE  the  frailest  leaves  of  me,  and  yet  my  strongest- 
lasting  : 

Here  I  shade  and  hide  my  thoughts — I  myself  do  not 
expose  them, 

And  yet  they  expose  me  more  than  all  my  other  poems. 


CALAMUS.  139 


When  I  Peruse  the  Conquer'd  Fame. 

WHEN  I  peruse  the  conquer'd  fame  of  heroes,  and  the 

victories  of  mighty  generals,  I  do  not  envy  the 

generals, 
Nor  the  President  in  his  Presidency,  nor  the  rich  in  his 

great  house ; 
But  when  I  hear  of  the  brotherhood  of  lovers,  how  it 

was  with  them, 
How  through  life,  through  dangers,  odium,  unchanging, 

long  and  long, 
Through  youth,  and  through  middle  and  old  age,  how 

unfaltering,  how  affectionate  and  faithful   they 

wefe, 
Then  I  am  pensive — I  hastily  walk  away,  filTd  with  the 

bitterest  envy. 


WHAT  THINK  You  I  TAKE  MY  PEN  IN  HAND? 

WHAT  think  you  I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  record  ? 

The  battle-ship,  perfect-model'd,  majestic,  that  I  saw 
pass  the  offing  to-day  under  full  sail  ? 

The  splendors  of  the  past  day  ?  Or  the  splendor  of  the 
night  that  envelops  me  ? 

Or  the  vaunted  glory  and  growth  of  the  great  city 
spread  around  me  ? — No  ; 

But  I  record  of  two  simple  men  I  saw  to-day,  on  the 
pier,  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  parting  the  part 
ing  of  dear  friends  ; 

The  one  to  remain  hung  on  the  other's  neck,  and  pas 
sionately  kiss'd  him, 

While  the  one  to  depart,  tightly  prest  the  one  to  remain 
in  his  arms. 


140  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 


A  GLIMPSE. 

A  GLIMPSE,  through  an  interstice  caught, 

Of  a  crowd  of  workmen  and  drivers  in  a  bar-room, 
around  the  stove,  late  of  a  winter  night — And  I 
unremark'd,  seated  in  a  corner  ; 

Of  a  youth  who  loves  me,  and  whom  I  love,  silently  ap 
proaching,  and  seating  himself  near,  that  he  may 
hold  me  by  the  hand  ; 

A  long  while,  amid  the  noises  of  coming  and  going — of 
drinking  and  oath  and  smutty  jest, 

There  we  two,  content,  happy  in  being  together,  speak 
ing  little,  perhaps  not  a  word. 


No  LABOR-SAVING  MACHINE. 

No  labor-saving  machine, 

Nor  discovery  have  I  made  ; 

Nor  will  I  be  able  to  leave  behind  me  any  wealthy  be 
quest  to  found  a  hospital  or  library, 

Nor  reminiscence  of  any  deed  of  courage,  for  America, 

Nor  literary  success,  nor  intellect — nor  book  for  the 
book-shelf  ; 

Only  a  few  carols,  vibrating  through  the  air,  I  leave, 

For  comrades  and  lovers. 


A  LEAF  FOE  HAND  IN  HAND. 

A  LEAF  for  hand  in  hand ! 

You  natural  persons  old  and  young ! 

You  on  the  Mississippi,  and  on  all  the  branches  and 
»  bayous  of  the  Mississippi ! 

You  friendly  boatmen  and  mechanics !     You  roughs ! 

You  twain!  And  all  processions  moving  along  the 
streets ! 

I  wish  to  infuse  myself  among  you  till  I  see  it  com 
mon  for  you  to  walk  hand  in  hand  ! 


CALAMUS.  141 


TO  THE  EAST  AND  TO   THE  WEST. 

To  the  East  and  to  the  West ; 

To  the  man  of  the  Seaside  State,  and  of  Pennsylvania, 

To  the  Kanadian  of  the  North — to  the  Southerner  I 
love  ; 

These,  with  perfect  trust,  to  depict  you  as  myself — 
the  germs  are  in  all  men  ; 

I  believe  the  main  purport  of  These  States  is  to  found 
a  superb  friendship,  exalte,  previously  unknown, 

Because  I  perceive  it  waits,  and  has  been  always  wait 
ing,  latent  in  all  men. 


EARTH  !    MY    LIKENESS  ! 

EARTH  !  my  likeness ! 

Though  you  look  so   impassive,   ample   and   spheric 

there, 

I  now  suspect  that  is  not  all ; 
I  now  suspect  there  is  something  fierce  in  you,  eligible 

to  burst  forth ; 

For  an  athlete  is  enamour'd  of  me — and  I  of  him ; 
But  toward  him  there  is  something  fierce  and  terrible 

in  me,  eligible  to  burst  forth, 
I  dare  not  tell  it  in  words — not  even  in  these  songs. 


I  DKEAM'D  IN  A  DKEAM. 

I  DREAMED  in  a  dream,  I  saw  a  city  invincible  to  the 
attacks  of  the  whole  of  the  rest  of  the  earth  ; 

I  dream'd  that  was  the  new  City  of  Friends  ; 

Nothing  was  greater  there  than  the  quality  of  robust 
love — it  led  the  rest  ; 

It  was  seen  every  hour  in  the  actions  of  the  men  of 
that  city, 

And  in  all  their  looks  and  words. 


142  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


FAST  ANCHOK'D,  ETEKNAL,   0   LOVE! 

FAST-ANCHOR'D,  eternal,  O  love !  O  woman  I  love ! 

0  bride !  O  wife !  more  resistless  than  I  can  tell,  the 

thought  of  you ! 

— Then  separate,  as  disembodied,  or  another  born, 
Ethereal,  the  last  athletic  reality,  my  consolation  ; 

1  ascend — I  float  in  the  regions  of  your  love,  O  man, 
O  sharer  of  my  roving  life. 


Sometimes  with  One  I  Love. 

SOMETIMES  with  one  I  love,  I  fill  myself  with  rage,  for 

fear  I  effuse  unreturn'd  love  ; 
But  now  I  think  there  is  no  unreturn'd  love — the  pay 

is  certain,  one  way  or  another  ; 
(I  loved  a  certain  person  ardently,  and  my  love  was 

not  return'd  ; 
Yet  out  of  that,  I  have  written  these  songs.) 


That  Shadow,  my  Likeness. 

THAT  shadow,  my  likeness,  that  goes  to  and  fro,  seek 
ing  a  livelihood,  chattering,  chaffering  ; 
How  often  I  find  myself  standing  and  looking  at  it 

where  it  flits  ; 
How  often  I  question  and  doubt  whether  that  is  really 

me  ; 
— But  in  these,  and  among  my  lovers,  and  caroling  my 

songs, 
O  I  never  doubt  whether  that  is  really  me. 


CALAMUS.  143 


AMONG  THE  MULTITUDE. 

1   AMONG  the  men  and  women,  the  multitude, 

1  perceive  one  picking  me  out  by  secret  and  divine 

signs, 
Acknowledging  none  else — not  parent,  wife,  husband, 

brother,  child,  any  nearer  than  I  am  ; 
Some  are  baffled — But  that  one  is  not — that  one  knows 

me. 

2  Ah,  lover  and  perfect  equal ! 

I  meant  that  you  should  discover  me  so,  by  my  faint 

indirections  ; 
And  I,  when  I  meet  you,  mean  to  discover  you  by  the 

like  in  you. 


TO  A  WESTERN  BOY. 

O  BOY  of  the  West ! 

To  you  many  things   to  absorb,  I  teach,  to  help  you 

become  eleve  of  mine  : 

Yet  if  blood  like  mine  circle  not  in  your  veins  ; 
If  you  be  not  silently  selected  by  lovers,  and  do  not 

silently  select  lovers, 
Of  what  use  is  it  that  you  seek  to  become  eleve  of  mine  ? 


O  YOU  WHOM  I  OFTEN  AND  SILENTLY  COME. 

O  YOU  whom  I  often  and  silently  come  where  you  are, 

that  I  may  be  with  you  ; 
As  I  walk  by  your  side,  or  sit  near,  or  remain  in  the 

same  room  with  you, 
Little  you  know  the  subtle  electric  fire  that  for  your 

sake  is  playing  within  me. 


144  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


Full  of  Life,  Now. 

1  FULL  of  life,  now,  compact,  visible, 

I,  forty  years  old  the  Eighty-third  Year  of  The  States, 
To  one  a  century  hence,  or  any  number  of  centuries 

hence, 
To  you,  yet  unborn,  these,  seeking  you. 

2  When  you  read  these,  I,  that  was  visible,  am  become 

invisible  ; 
Now  it  is  you,  compact,  visible,  realizing  my  poems, 

seeking  me  ; 
Fancying  how  happy  you  were,  if  I  could  be  with  you, 

and  become  your  comrade  ; 
Be  it  as  if  I  were  with  you.     (Be  not  too  certain  but  I 

am  now  with  you.) 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SALUT    AU    MONDE! 


1  O  TAKE  my  hand,  Walt  Whitman  ! 

Such  gliding  wonders  !  such  sights  and  sounds  ! 
Such  join'd  unended  links,  each  hook'd  to  the  next ! 
Each  answering  all — each  sharing  the  earth  with  all. 

2  What  widens  within  you,  Walt  Whitman  ? 
What  waves  and  soils  exuding  ? 

What  climes  ?  what  persons  and  lands  are  here  ? 
Who  are  the  infants  ?  some  playing,  some  slumbering  ? 
Who  are  the  girls  ?  who  are  the  married  women  ? 
Who  are  the  groups  of  old  men  going  slowly  with  their 

arms  about  each  other's  necks  ? 
What  rivers   are   these  ?   what  forests  and  fruits  are 

these  ? 
What  are  the  mountains  call'd  that  rise  so  high  in  the 

mists  ? 
What  myriads  of  dwellings  are  they,  fill'd  with  dwellers  ? 


3  Within  me  latitude  widens,  longitude  lengthens  ; 

Asia,  Africa,  Europe,  are  to  the  east — America  is  pro 
vided  for  in  the  west ; 

Banding  the  bulge  of  the  earth  winds  the  hot  equator, 

Curiously  north  and  south  turn  the  axis-ends  ; 

Within  me  is  the  longest  day — the  sun  wheels  in  slant 
ing  rings — it  does  not  set  for  months  ; 
7 


146  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

Stretch'd  in  due  time  within  me  the  midnight  sun  just 
rises  above  the  horizon,  and  sinks  again  ; 

Within  me  zones,  seas,  cataracts,  plants,  volcanoes, 
groups, 

Malaysia,  Polynesia,  and  the  great  West  Indian  islands. 

3 

4  What  do  you  hear,  Walt  Whitman  ? 

5  I  hear  the  workman  singing,  and  the  farmer's  wife 

singing  ; 
I  hear  in  the  distance  the  sounds  of  children,  and  of 

animals  early  in  the  day  ; 

I  hear  quick  rifle-cracks  from  the  riflemen  of  East  Ten 
nessee  and  Kentucky,  hunting  on  hills  ; 
I  hear  emulous  shouts  of  Australians,  pursuing  the  wild 

horse  ; 
I  hear  the  Spanish  dance,  with  castanets,  in  the  chestnut 

shade,  to  the  rebeck  and  guitar  ; 
I  hear  continual  echoes  from  the  Thames  ; 
I  hear  fierce  French  liberty  songs  ; 
I  hear  of  the  Italian  boat-sculler  the  musical  recitative 

of  old  poems  ; 
I  hear  the  Virginia  plantation-chorus  of  negroes,  of  a 

harvest  night,  in  the  glare  of  pine-knots  ; 
I  hear  the  strong  baritone  of  the  long-shore-men  of 

Mannahatta ; 

I  hear  the  stevedores  unlading  the  cargoes,  and  singing ; 
I  hear  the  screams  of  the  water-fowl  of  solitary  north 
west  lakes ; 
I  hear  tbe  rustling  pattering  of  locusts,  as  they  strike 

the  grain  and  grass  with  the  showers  of  their 

terrible  clouds  ; 
I  hear  the  Coptic  refrain,  toward  sundown,  pensively 

falling  on  (he  breast  of  the  black  venerable  vast 

mother,  the  Nile  ; 
I  hear  the   bugles  of   raft-tenders  on  the  streams  of 

Kanada ; 
I  hear  the  chirp  of  the  Mexican   muleteer,  and  the 

bells  of  the  mule  ; 


SALUT  AU  MONDE!  147 

I  hear  the  Arab  muezzin,  calling  from  the  top  of  the 

mosque  ; 
I  hear  the   Christian  priests   at  the   altars   of  their 

churches — I    hear    the    responsive    base    and 

soprano  ; 
I  hear  the  wair  of   utter  despair  of   the  white-hair'd 

Irish  grand-parents,  when  they  learn  the  death 

of  their  grandson ; 
I  hear  the  cry  of  the  Cossack,  and  the  sailor's  voice, 

putting  to  sea  at  Okotsk  ; 
I  hear  the  wheeze   of  the   slave-coffle,  as  the  slaves 

march  on — as  the  husky  gangs  pass  on  by  twos 

and  threes,  fasten'd  together  with  wrist-chains 

and  ankle-chains  ; 
I  hear  the  entreaties  of  women  tied  up  for  punishment 

— I  hear  the   sibilant  whisk  of  thongs  through 

the  air  ; 

I  hear  the  Hebrew  reading  his  records  and  psalms  ; 
I  hear  the  rhythmic   myths  of    the  Greeks,   and  the 

strong  legends  of  the  Eomans  ; 
I  hear  the  tale  of  the  divine  life  and  bloody  death  of 

the  beautiful  God — the  Christ  ; 
I  hear  the   Hindoo   teaching   his  favorite   pupil   the 

loves,  wars,   adages,  transmitted  safely  to  this 

day,  from  poets  who  wrote  three  thousand  years 

ago. 


6  What  do  you  see,  Walt  Whitman  ? 

Who  are  they  you  salute,  and  that  one  after  another 
salute  you? 

7  I  see  a  great  round  wonder  rolling  through  the  air  ; 
I  see  diminute  farms,  hamlets,  ruins,  grave-yards,  jails, 

factories,   palaces,    hovels,  huts   of    barbarians, 

tents  of  nomads,  upon  the  surface  ; 
I  see  the  shaded  part  on  one  side,  where  the  sleepers 

are  sleeping — and  the  sun-lit  part  on  the  other 

side, 
I  see  the  curious  silent  change  of  the  light  and  shade, 


148  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  see  distant  lands,  as  real  and  near  to  the  inhabitants 
of  them,  as  my  land  is  to  me. 

8  I  see  plenteous  waters  ; 

I  see  mountain  peaks — I  see  the  sierras  of  Andes  and 
Alleghanies,  where  they  range  ; 

I  see  plainly  the  Himalayas,  Chian  Shahs,  Altays, 
Ghauts  ; 

I  see  the  giant  pinnacles  of  Elbruz,  Kazbek,  Bazardjusi, 

I  see  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  the  Peak  of  Winds  ; 

I  see  the  Styrian  Alps,  and  the  Karnac  Alps  ; 

I  see  the  Pyrenees,  Balks,  Carpathians — and  to  the 
north  the  Dofranelds,  and  off  at  sea  Mount 
Hecla  ; 

I  see  Vesuvius  and  Etna — I  see  the  Anahuacs  ; 

I  see  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  and  the  Snow 
Mountains,  and  the  Bed  Mountains  of  Mada 
gascar  ; 

I  see  the  Vermont  hills,  and  the  long  string  of  Cor 
dilleras  ; 

I  see  the  vast  deserts  of  Western  America  ; 

I  see  the  Lybian,  Arabian,  and  Asiatic  deserts  ; 

I  see  huge  dreadful  Arctic  and  Antarctic  icebergs  ; 

I  see  the  superior  oceans  and  the  inferior  ones — the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific,  the  sea  of  Mexico,  the 
Brazilian  sea,  and  the  sea  of  Peru, 

The  Japan  waters,  those  of  Hindostan,  the  China  Sea, 
and  the  Gulf  of  Guinea, 

The  spread  of  the  Baltic,  Caspian,  Bothnia,  the  British 
shores,  and  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 

The  clear-sunn'd  Mediterranean,  and  from  one  to  an 
other  of  its  islands, 

The  inland  fresh-tasted  seas  of  North  America, 

The  White  Sea,  and  the  sea  around  Greenland. 

9  I  behold  the  mariners  of  the  world  ; 

Some  are  in  storms — some  in  the  night,  with  the 
watch  on  the  look-out ; 

Some  drifting  helplessly — some  with  contagious  dis 
eases. 


SALUT  AU  MONDE!  149 

10  I  behold  the  sail  and  steamships  of  the  world,  some 
in  clusters  in  port,  some  on  their  voyages  ; 

Some  double  the  Cape  of  Storms — some  Cape  Verde, 
— others  Cape  Guardafui,  Bon,  or  Baj  adore  ; 

Others  Dondra  Head — others  pass  the  Straits  of  Sun- 
da —  others  Cape  Lopatka —  others  Behring's 
Straits  ; 

Others  Cape  Horn — others  sail  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  or 
along  Cuba  or  Hayti — others  Hudson's  Bay  or 
Baffin's  Bay  ; 

Others  pass  the  Straits  of  Dover — others  enter  the 
Wash  —  others  the  Firth  of  Solway  —  others 
round  Cape  Clear — others  the  Land's  End  ; 

Others  traverse  the  Zuyder  Zee,  or  the  Scheld  ; 

Others  add  to  the  exits  and  entrances  at  Sandy  Hook  ; 

Others  to  the  comers  and  goers  at  Gibraltar,  or  the 
Dardanelles  ; 

Others  sternly  push  their  way  through  the  northern 
winter-packs  ; 

Others  descend  or  ascend  the  Obi  or  the  Lena  ; 

Others  the  Niger  or  the  Congo — others  the  Indus,  the 
Burampooter  and  Cambodia  ; 

Others  wait  at  the  wharves  of  Manhattan,  steam'd  up, 
ready  to  start ; 

Wait,  swift  and  swarthy,  in  the  ports  of  Australia  ; 

Wait  at  Liverpool,  Glasgow,  Dublin,  Marseilles,  Lis 
bon,  Naples,  Hamburg,  Bremen,  Bordeaux,  the 
Hague,  Copenhagen  ; 

Wait  at  Valparaiso,  Bio  Janeiro,  Panama  ; 

Wait  at  their  moorings  at  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Balti 
more,  Charleston,  New  Orleans,  Galveston,  San 
Francisco. 


5 

11  I  see  the  tracks  of  the  rail-roads  of  the  earth  ; 

I  see  them  welding  State  to  State,  city  to  city,  through 

North  America  ; 

I  see  them  in  Great  Britain,  I  see  them  in  Europe  ; 
I  see  them  in  Asia  and  in  Africa. 


150  LEAVES  OF  G-KASS. 

18  I  see  the  electric  telegraphs  of  the  earth  ; 
I  see  the  filaments  of  the  news  of  the  wars,  deaths, 
losses,  gains,  passions,  of  my  race. 

13  I  see  the  long  river-stripes  of  the  earth  ; 

I  see  where  the  Mississippi  flows — I  see  where  the  Co 
lumbia  flows  ; 

I  see  the  Great  Eiver,  and  the  Falls  of  Niagara  ; 

I  see  the  Amazon  and  the  Paraguay  ; 

I  see  the  four  great  rivers  of  China,  the  Amour,  the 
Yellow  Eiver,  the  Yiang-tse,  and  the  Pearl ; 

I  see  where  the  Seine  flows,  and  where  the  Danube, 
the  Loire,  the  Rhone,  and  the  Guadalquiver 
flow ; 

I  see  the  windings  of  the  Volga,  the  Dnieper,  the 
Oder; 

I  see  the  Tuscan  going  down  the  Arno,  and  the  Vene 
tian  along  the  Po  ; 

I  see  the  Greek  seaman  sailing  out  of  Egina  bay. 

6 

14  I  see  the  site  of  the  old  empire  of  Assyria,  and  that 

of  Persia,  and  that  of  India  ; 

I  see  the  falling  of  the  Ganges  over  the  high  rim  of 
Saukara. 

15  I  see  the  place  of  the  idea  of  the  Deity  incarnated  by 

avatars  in  human  forms  ; 
I  see  the  spots  of  the  successions  of  priests  on  the  earth 

— oracles,  sacrificers,  brahmins,  sabians,  lamas, 

monks,  muftis,  exhorters  ; 
I  see  where  druids  walked  the  groves  of  Mona — I  see 

the  mistletoe  and  vervain  ; 
I  see  the  temples  of  the  deaths  of  the  bodies  of  Gods — 

I  see  the  old  signifiers. 

16  I  see  Christ  once  more  eating  the  bread  of  his  last 

supper,  in  the  midst  of  youths  and  old  persons  ; 
I  see  where  the  strong  divine  young  man,  the  Hercules, 
toil'd  faithfully  and  long,  and  then  died  ; 


SALUT  AU  MONDE!  151 

I  see  the  place  of  the  innocent  rich  life  and  hapless  fate 

of  the  beautiful    nocturnal  son,  the  fuU-limb'd 

Bacchus  ; 
I  see  Kneph,  blooming,  drest  in  blue,  with  the  crown 

of  feathers  on  his  head  ; 
I  see  Hermes,  unsuspected,  dying,  well-beloved,  saying 

to  the  people,  Do  not  weep  for  me, 
This  is  not  my  true  country,  I  have  lived  banish'd  from 

my  true  country — /  now  go  back  there, 
I  return  to  the  celestial  sphere,  where  every  one  goes  in  his 

turn. 


17  I  see  the  battle-fields  of  the  earth — grass  grows  upon 

them,  and  blossoms  and  corn  ; 
I  see  the  tracks  of  ancient  and  modern  expeditions. 

18  I  see  the  nameless  masonries,  venerable  messages  of 

the  unknown  events,  heroes,  records  of  the  earth. 

19  I  see  the  places  of  the  sagas ; 

I  see  pine-trees  and  fir-trees  torn  by  northern  blasts  ; 

I  see  granite  boulders  and  cliffs — I  see  green  meadows 
and  lakes  ; 

I  see  the  burial-cairns  of  Scandinavian  warriors  ; 

I  see  them  raised  high  with  stones,  by  the  marge  of 
restless  oceans,  that  the  dead  men's  spirits,  when 
they  wearied  of  their  quiet  graves,  might  rise  up 
through  the  mounds,  and  gaze  on  the  tossing  bil 
lows,  and  be  refreshed  by  storms,  immensity,  lib 
erty,  action. 

20  I  see  the  steppes  of  Asia  ; 

I  see  the  tumuli  of  Mongolia — I  see  the  tents  of  Kal 
mucks  and  Baskirs ; 

I  see  the  nomadic  tribes,  with  herds  of  oxen  and  cows  ; 

I  see  the  table-lands  notch'd  with  ravines — I  see  the 
jungles  and  deserts  ; 

I  see  the  camel,  the  wild  steed,  the  bustard,  the  fat- 
tail'd  sheep,  the  antelope,  and  the  burrowing 
wolf. 


152  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

21  I  see  the  high-lands  of  Abyssinia  ; 

I  see  flocks  of  goats  feeding,  and  see  the  fig-tree,  tama 
rind,  date, 

And  see  fields  of  teff- wheat,  and  see  the  places  of  ver 
dure  and  gold. 

22  I  see  the  Brazilian  vaquero  ; 

I  see  the  Bolivian  ascending  Mount  Sorata ; 

I  see  the  Wacho  crossing  the  plains — I  see  the  incom 
parable  rider  of  horses  with  his  lasso  on  his 
arm  ; 

I  see  over  the  pampas  the  pursuit  of  wild  cattle  for 
their  hides. 

8 

23  I  see  little  and  large  sea-dots,  some  inhabited,  some 

uninhabited  ; 
I  see  two  boats  with  nets,  lying  off  the  shore  of  Pau- 

manok,  quite  still ; 
I  see  ten  fishermen  waiting — they  discover  now  a  thick 

school   of  mossbonkers — they  drop  the    join'd 

seine-ends  in  the  water, 
The  boats  separate — they  diverge  and  row  off,  each  on 

its  rounding  course  to  the  beach,  enclosing  the 

mossbonkers  ; 
The  net  is  drawn  in  by  a  windlass  by  those  who  stop 

ashore, 
Some  of  the  fishermen  lounge  in  their  boats — others 

stand  negligently  ankle-deep  in  the  water,  pois'd 

on  strong  legs ; 
The  boats  are  partly  drawn  up — the  water  slaps  against 

them  ; 
On  the  sand,  in  heaps  and  winrows,  well  out  from  the 

water,  lie  the  green-back'd  spotted  mossbonkers. 

9 

84  I  see  the  despondent  red  man  in  the  west,  lingering 
about  the  banks  of  Moingo,  and  about  Lake 
Pepin ; 


SALTJT  AU  MONDE!  153 

He  has  heard  the  quail  and  beheld  the  honey-bee,  and 
sadly  prepared  to  depart. 

25  I  see  the  regions  of  snow  and  ice  ; 

I  see  the  sharp-eyed  Samoiede  and  the  Finn  ; 

I  see  the  seal-seeker  in  his  boat,  poising  his  lance  ; 

I  see  the  Siberian  on  his  slight-built  sledge,  drawn  by 

dogs; 
I  see  the  porpoise-hunters — I  see  the  whale-crews  of 

the  South  Pacific  and  the  North  Atlantic  ; 
I  see  the  cliffs,  glaciers,  torrents,  valleys,  of  Switzerland 

— I  mark  the  long  winters,  and  the  isolation. 

26  I  see  the  cities  of  the  earth,  and  make  myself  at  ran 

dom  a  part  of  them  ; 

I  am  a  real  Parisian  ; 

I  am  a  habitan  of  Vienna,  St.  Petersburg,  Berlin,  Con 
stantinople  ; 

I  am  of  Adelaide,  Sidney,  Melbourne  ; 

I  am  of  London,  Manchester,  Bristol,  Edinburgh,  Lim 
erick  ; 

I  am  of  Madrid,  Cadiz,  Barcelona,  Oporto,  Lyons,  Brus- 
sels,  Berne,  Frankfort,  Stuttgart,  Turin,  Florence; 

I  belong  in  Moscow,  Cracow,  Warsaw — or  northward 
in  Christiania  or  Stockholm — or  in  Siberian 
Irkutsk — or  in  some  street  in  Iceland  ; 

I  descend  upon  all  those  cities,  and  rise  from  them 
again. 

10 

27  I  see  vapors  exhaling  from  unexplored  countries  ; 

I  see  the  savage  types,  the  bow  and  arrow,  the  poison'd 
splint,  the  fetish,  and  the  obi. 

28  I  see  African  and  Asiatic  towns  ; 

I  see   Algiers,  Tripoli,  Derne,  Mogadore,  Timbuctoo, 

Monrovia  ; 
I  see  the  swarms  of  Pekin,  Canton,  Benares,  Delhi, 

Calcutta,  Yedo  ; 
I  see  the  Kruman  in  his  hut,  and  the  Dahoman  and 

Ashantee-man  in  their  huts  ; 


154  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

I  see  the  Turk  smoking  opium  in  Aleppo  ; 

I  see  the  picturesque  crowds  at  the  fairs  of  Khiva,  and 

those  of  Herat ; 

I  see  Teheran — I  see  Muscat  and  Medina,  and  the  inter 
vening  sands — I  see  the  caravans  toiling  onward; 
I  see  Egypt  and  the  Egyptians — I  see  the  pyramids  and 

obelisks ; 
I  look  on  chisel'd  histories,  songs,  philosophies,  cut  in 

slabs  of  sand-stone,  or  on  granite-blocks  ; 
I  see  at  Memphis  mummy-pits,  containing  mummies, 

embalm'd,  swathed  in  linen  cloth,  lying  there 

many  centuries ; 
I  look  on  the  fall'n  Theban,  the  large-ball'd  eyes,  the 

side-drooping  neck,  the  hands  folded  across  the 

breast. 

29  I  see  the  menials  of  the  earth,  laboring  ; 
I  see  the  prisoners  in  the  prisons  ; 

I  see  the  defective  human  bodies  of  the. earth  ; 

I  see  the  blind,  the  deaf  and  dumb,  idiots,  hunchbacks, 
lunatics  ; 

I  see  the  pirates,  thieves,  betrayers,  murderers,  slave- 
makers  of  the  earth  ; 

I  see  the  helpless  infants,  and  the  helpless  old  men  and 
women. 

30  I  see  male  and  female  everywhere  ; 

I  see  the  serene  brotherhood  of  philosophs  ; 

I  see  the  constructiveness  of  my  race  ; 

I  see  the  results  of  the  perseverance  and  industry  of 

my  race ; 
I   see    ranks,    colors,    barbarisms,    civilizations — I  go 

among  them — I  mix  indiscriminately, 
And  I  salute  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth. 

11 

31  You,  whoever  you  are ! 

You  daughter  or  son  of  England! 
You  of  the  mighty  Slavic  tribes  and  empires !  you  Euss 
in  Russia ! 


SALUT  AU  MONDE!  155 

You  dim-descended,  black,  divine-soul'd  African,  large, 
fine-headed,  nobly-form'd,  superbly  destin'd,  on 
equal  terms  with  me ! 

You  Norwegian  !  Swede !  Dane !  Icelander !  you  Prus 
sian! 

You  Spaniard  of  Spain !  you  Portuguese ! 

You  Frenchwoman  and  Frenchman  of  France! 

You  Beige !  you  liberty-lover  of  the  Netherlands ! 

You  sturdy  Austrian !  you  Lombard !  Hun !  Bohemian ! 
farmer  of  Styria ! 

You  neighbor  of  the  Danube ! 

You  working-man  of  the  Rhine,  the  Elbe,  or  the  "Weser ! 
you  working-woman  too ! 

You  Sardinian !  you  Bavarian !  Swabian !  Saxon  !  Wal- 
lachian!  Bulgarian! 

You  citizen  of  Prague !  Roman !  Neapolitan !  Greek ! 

You  lithe  matador  in  the  arena  at  Seville! 

You  mountaineer  living  lawlessly  on  the  Taurus  or 
Caucasus ! 

You  Bokh  horse-herd,  watching  your  mares  and  stal 
lions  feeding ! 

You  beautiful-bodied  Persian,  at  full  speed  in  the  sad 
dle,  shooting  arrows  to  the  mark ! 

You  Chinaman  and  Chinawoman  of  China !  you  Tartar 
of  Tartary! 

You  women  of  the  earth  subordinated  at  your  tasks  ! 

You  Jew  journeying  in  your  old  age  through  every  risk, 
to  stand  once  on  Syrian  ground ! 

You  other  Jews  waiting  in  all  lands  for  your  Messiah! 

You  thoughtful  Armenian,  pondering  by  some  stream 
of  the  Euphrates !  you  peering  amid  the  ruins 
of  Ninevah  !  you  ascending  Mount  Ararat ! 

You  foot-worn  pilgrim  welcoming  the  far-away  sparkle 
of  the  minarets  of  Mecca  ! 

You  sheiks  along  the  stretch  from  Suez  to  Bab-el-man- 
deb,  ruling  your  families  and  tribes  ! 

You  olive-grower  tending  your  fruit  on  fields  of  Naz 
areth,  Damascus,  or  Lake  Tiberias  ! 

You  Thibet  trader  on  the  wide  inland,  or  bargaining 
in  the  shops  of  Lassa ! 


156  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

You  Japanese  man  or  woman !  you  liver  in  Madagas 
car,  Ceylon^  Sumatra,  Borneo ! 

All  you  continentals  of  Asia,  Africa,  Europe,  Australia, 
indifferent  of  place ! 

All  you  on  the  numberless  islands  of  the  archipelagoes 
of  the  sea ! 

And  you  of  centuries  hence,  when  you  listen  to  me  ! 

And  you,  each  and  everywhere,  whom  I  specify  not,  but 
include  just  the  same  ! 

Health  to  you!  Good  will  to  you  all — from  me  and 
America  sent. 

32  Each  of  us  inevitable  ; 

Each  of  us  limitless — each  of  us  with  his  or  her  right 

upon  the  earth  ; 

Each  of  us  allow'd  the  eternal  purports  of  the  earth  ; 
Each  of  us  here  as  divinely  as  any  is  here. 

12 

33  You  Hottentot  with  eliciting  palate !    You  woolly- 

hair'd  hordes ! 

You  own'd  persons,  dropping  sweat-drops  or  blood- 
drops  ! 

You  human  forms  with  the  fathomless  ever-impressive 
countenances  of  brutes ! 

I  dare  not  refuse  you — the  scope  of  the  world,  and  of 
time  and  space,  are  upon  me. 

34  You  poor  koboo  whom  the  meanest  of  the  rest  look 

down  upon,  for  all  your  glimmering  language 
and  spirituality ! 

You  low  expiring  aborigines  of  the  hills  of  Utah,  Ore 
gon,  California! 

You  dwarf  'd  Kamtschatkan,  Greenlander,  Lapp  ! 

You  Austral  negro,  naked,  red,  sooty,  with  protrusive 
lip,  grovelling,  seeking  your  food  ! 

You  Caflre,  Berber,  Soudanese  ! 

You  haggard,  uncouth,  untutor'd,  Bedowee  ! 

You  plague-swarms  in  Madras,  Nankin,  Kaubul,  Cairo ! 

You  bather  bathing  in  the  Ganges  ! 


SALUT  AU  MONDE  !  157 

You  benighted  roaxner  of  Amazonia  !  you  Patagonian  ! 

you  Fejee-man ! 
You  peon  of  Mexico !   you  slave  of  Carolina,  Texas, 

Tennessee ! 

I  do  not  prefer  others  so  very  much  before  you  either  ; 
I  do  not  say  one  word  against  you,  away  back  there, 

where  you  stand  ;  9 

(You  will  come  forward  in  due  time  to  iny  side.) 

35  My  spirit  has  pass'd  in  compassion  and  determina 

tion  around  the  whole  earth  ; 
I  have  look'd  for  equals  and  lovers,  and  found  them 

ready  for  me  in  all  lands  ; 
I  think  some  divine  rapport  has  equalized  me  with 

them. 

13 

36  O  vapors  !  I  think  I  have  risen  with  you,  and  moved 

away  to  distant  continents,  and  fallen  down  there, 
for  reasons  ; 
I  think  I  have  blown  with  you,  O  winds  ; 

0  waters,  I  have  finger'd  every  shore  with  you. 

37  I  have  run  through  what  any  river  or  strait  of  the 

globe  has  run  through  ; 

1  have  taken  my  stand  on  the  bases  of  peninsulas,  and 

on  the  high  embedded  rocks,  to  cry  thence. 

38  Salut  au  monde  ! 

What  cities  the  light  or  warmth  penetrates,  I  penetrate 

those  cities  myself  ; 
All  islands  to  which  birds  wing  their  way,  I  wing  my 

way  myself. 

39  Toward  all, 

I  raise  high  the  perpendicular  hand — I  make  the  signal, 
To  remain  after  me  in  sight  forever, 
For  all  the  haunts  and  homes  of  men. 


158  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


A  CHILD'S  AMAZE. 

SILENT  and  amazed,  even  when  a  little  boy, 

I  remember  I  heard  the  preacher  every  Sunday  put 

God  in  his  statements, 
As  contending  against  some  being  or  influence. 


THE  RUNNER. 

ON  a  flat  road  runs  the  well-train'd  runner  ; 
He  is  lean  and  sinewy,  with  muscular  legs  ; 
He  is  thinly  clothed — he  leans  forward  as  he  runs, 
With  lightly  closed  fists,  and  arms  partially  rais'd. 


BEAUTIFUL  WOMEN. 

WOMEN  sit,  or  move  to  and  fro — some  old,  some  young ; 
The  young  are  beautiful — but  the  old  are  more  'beauti 
ful  than  the  young. 


MOTHER  AND  BABE. 

I  SEE  the  sleeping  babe,  nestling  the  breast  of  its  mother ; 
The  sleeping  mother  and  babe — hush'd,  I  study  them 
long  and  long. 


THOUGHT. 

OF  obedience,  faith,  adhesiveness  •, 

As  I  stand  aloof  and  look,  there  is  to  me  something 
profoundly  affecting  in  large  masses  of  men,  fol 
lowing  the  lead  of  those  who  do  not  believe  in 
men. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


AMERICAN   FEUILLAGE. 


AMERICA  always ! 

Always  our  own  feuillage  ! 

Always  Florida's  green  peninsula  !  Always  the  priceless 
delta  of  Louisiana !  Always  the  cotton-fields  of 
Alabama  and  Texas  ! 

Always  California's  golden  hills  and  hollows — and  the 
silver  mountains  of  New  Mexico !  Always  soft- 
breath'd  Cuba ! 

Always  the  vast  slope  drain'd  by  the  Southern  Sea — 
inseparable  with  the  slopes  drain'd  by  the  East 
ern  and  Western  Seas ; 

The  area  the  eighty-third  year  of  These  States — the 
three  and  a  half  millions  of  square  miles  ; 

The  eighteen  thousand  miles  of  sea-coast  and  bay-coast 
on  the  main — the  thirty  thousand  miles  of  river 
navigation, 

The  seven  millions  of  distinct  families,  and  the  same 
number  of  dwellings — Always  these,  and  more, 
branching  forth  into  numberless  branches  ; 

Always  the  free  range  and  diversity !  always  the  conti 
nent  of  Democracy ! 

Always  the  prairies,  pastures,  forests,  vast  cities,  trav 
elers,  Kanada,  the  snows ; 

Always  these  compact  lands — lands  tied  at  the  hips 
with  the  belt  stringing  the  huge  oval  lakes  ; 

Always  the  West,  with  strong  native  persons — the  in 
creasing  density  there — the  habitans,  friendly, 
threatening,  ironical,  scorning  invaders  ; 

All  sights,  South,  North,  East — all  deeds,  promiscu 
ously  done  at  all  times, 


160  LEAVES  or  GKASS. 

All  characters,   movements,   growths — a  few  noticed, 

myriads  unnoticed, 
Through  Mannahatta's  streets  I  walking,  these  things 

gathering ; 
On  interior  rivers,  by  night,  in  the  glare  of  pine  knots, 

steamboats  wooding  up  ; 
Sunlight  by  day  on  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna,  and 

on  the  valleys  of  the  Potomac  and  Rappahannock, 

and  the  valleys  of  the  Roanoke  and  Delaware  ; 
In  their  northerly  wilds,  beasts  of  prey  haunting  the 

Adirondacks,  the  hills — or  lapping  the  Saginaw 

waters  to  drink  ; 
In  a  lonesome  inlet,  a  sheldrake,  lost  from  the  flock, 

sitting  on  the  water,  rocking  silently ; 
In  farmers'  barns,  oxen  in  the  stable,  their  harvest  labor 

done — they  rest  standing — they  are  too  tired  ; 
Afar  on  arctic  ice,  the  she-walrus  lying  drowsily,  while 

her  cubs  play  around  ; 
The  hawk  sailing  where  men  have  not  yet  sail'd — the 

farthest  polar  sea,  ripply,  crystalline,  open,  be 
yond  the  floes ; 

White  drift  spooning  ahead,  where  the  ship  in  the  tem 
pest  dashes  ; 
On  solid  land,  what  is  done  in  cities,  as  the  bells  all 

strike  midnight  together ; 
In  primitive  woods,  the  sounds  there  also  sounding — 

the  howl  of  the  wolf,  the  scream  of  the  panther, 

and  the  hoarse  bellow  of  the  elk  ; 
In  winter  beneath  the  hard  blue  ice  of  Moosehead  Lake 

— in  summer  visible  through  the  clear  waters, 

the  great  trout  swimming  ; 
In  lower  latitudes,  in  warmer  air,  in  the  Carolinas,  the 

large  black  buzzard  floating  slowly,  high  beyond 

the  tree  tops, 
Below,   the  red   cedar,  festoon'd   with   tylandria — the 

pines  and  cypresses,  growing  out  of  the  white 

sand  that  spreads  far  and  flat ; 
Rude  boats  descending  the  big  Pedee — climbing  plants, 

parasites,  with  color'd  flowers  and  berries,  envel 
oping  huge  trees, 


AMERICAN  FEUILLAGE.  161 

The  waving  drapery  on  the  live  oak,  trailing  long  and 
low,  noiselessly  waved  by  the  wind  ; 

The  camp  of  Georgia  wagoners,  just  after  dark — the 
supper-fires,  and  the  cooking  and  eating  by 
whites  and  negroes, 

Thirty  or  forty  great  wagons — the  mules,  cattle,  horses, 
feeding  from  troughs, 

The  shadows,  gleams,  up  under  the  leaves  of  the  old 
sycamore-trees — the  flames — with  the  black  smoke 
from  the  pitch-pine,  curling  and  rising  ; 

Southern  fishermen  fishing — the  sounds  and  inlets  of 
North  Carolina's  coast — the  shad-fishery  and  the 
herring-fishery — the  large  sweep-seines — the 
windlasses  on  shore  work'd  by  horses — the  clear 
ing,  curing,  and  packing-houses  ; 

Deep  in  the  forest,  in  piney  woods,  turpentine  dropping 
from  the  incisions  in  the  trees — There  are  the 
turpentine  works, 

There  are  the  negroes  at  work,  in  good  health — the 
ground  in  all  directions  is  cover'd  with  pine 
straw  : 

— In  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  slaves  busy  in  the  coal 
ings,  at  the  forge,  by  the  furnace-blaze,  or  at  the 
corn-shucking ; 

In  Virginia,  the  planter's  son  returning  after  a  long 
absence,  joyfully  welcoin'd  and  kiss'd  by  the  aged 
mulatto  nurse  ; 

On  rivers,  boatmen  safely  moor'd  at  night-fall,  in  their 
boats,  under  shelter  of  high  banks, 

Some  of  the  younger  men  dance  to  the  sound  of  the 
banjo  or  fiddle — others  sit  on  the  gunwale,  smok 
ing  and  talking  ; 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  mocking-bird,  the  American 
mimic,  singing  in  the  Great  Dismal  Swamp — 
there  are  the  greenish  waters,  the  resinous  odor, 
the  plenteous  moss,  the  cypress  tree,  and  the 
juniper  tree  ; 

— Northward,  young  men  of  Mannahatta — the  target 
company  from  an  excursion  returning  home  at 
evening — the  musket-muzzles  all  bear  bunches 
of  flowers  presented  by  women  ; 


162  .       LEAVES  OF  GUASS. 

Children  at  play — or  on  his  father's  lap  a  young  boy 
fallen  asleep,  (how  his  lips  move  !  how  he  smiles 
in  his  sleep !) 

The  scout  riding  on  horseback  over  the  plains  west  of 
the  Mississippi — he  ascends  a  knoll  and  sweeps 
his  eye  around ; 

California  life — the  miner,  bearded,  dress'd  in  his  rude 
costume — the  stanch  California  friendship — the 
sweet  air — the  graves  one,  in  passing,  meets, 
solitary,  just  aside  the  horse-path  ; 

Down  in  Texas,  the  cotton-field,  the  negro-cabins — 
drivers  driving  mules  or  oxen  before  rude  carts — 
cotton  bales  piled  on  banks  and  wharves  ; 

Encircling  all,  vast-darting,  up  and  wide,  the  American 
Soul,  with  equal  hemispheres — one  Love,  one 
Dilation  or  Pride  ; 

— In  arriere,  the  peace-talk  with  the  Iroquois,  the  abo 
rigines — the  calumet,  the  pipe  of  good-will,  arbi 
tration,  and  indorsement, 

The  sachem  blowing  the  smoke  first  toward  the  sun  and 
then  toward  the  earth, 

The  drama  of  the  scalp-dance  enacted  with  painted 
faces  and  guttural  exclamations, 

The  setting  out  of  the  war-party — the  long  and  stealthy 
march, 

The  single-file — the  swinging  hatchets — the  surprise 
and  slaughter  of  enemies  ; 

— All  the  acts,  scenes,  ways,  persons,  attitudes  of  These 
States — reminiscences,  all  institutions, 

All  These  States,  compact — Every  square  mile  of  These 
States,  without  excepting  a  particle — you  also — 
nae  also, 

Me  pleas'd,  rambling  in  lanes  and  country  fields,  Pau- 
manok's  fields, 

Me,  observing  the  spiral  flight  of  two  little  yellow  but 
terflies,  shuffling  between  each  other,  ascending 
high  in  the  air  ; 

The  darting  swallow,  the  destroyer  of  insects — the  fall 
traveler  southward,  but  returning  northward 
early  in  the  spring  ; 


AMERICAN  FEUILLAGE.  163 

The  country  boy  at  the  close  of  the  day,  driving  the 
herd  of  cows,  and  shouting  to  them  as  they  loiter 
to  browse  by  the  road-side  ; 

The  city  wharf — Boston.  Philadelphia,  Baltimore, 
Charleston,  New  Orleans,  San  Francisco, 

The  departing  ships,  when  the  sailors  heave  at  the 
capstan  ; 

— Evening — me  in  my  room — the  setting  sun, 

The  setting  summer  sun  shining  in  my  open  window, 
showing  the  swarm  of  flies,  suspended,  balancing 
in  the  air  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  darting 
athwart,  up  and  down,  casting  swift  shadows  in 
specks  on  the  opposite  wall,  where  the  shine  is  ; 

The  athletic  American  matron  speaking  in  public  to 
crowds  of  listeners ; 

Males,  females,  immigrants,  combinations — the  copious 
ness — the  individuality  of  The  States,  each  for 
itself — the  money-makers  ; 

Factories,  machinery,  the  mechanical  forces — the  wind 
lass,  lever,  pulley — All  certainties, 

The  certainty  of  space,  increase,  freedom,  futurity, 

In  space,  the  sporades,  the  scatter'd  islands,  the  stars — 
on  the  firm  earth,  the  lands,  my  lands ; 

O  lands !  all  so  dear  to  me — what  you  are,  (whatever  it 
is, )  I  become  a  part  of  that,  whatever  it  is ; 

Southward  there,  I  screaming,  with  wings  slow  flapping, 
with  the  myriads  of  gulls  wintering  along  the 
coasts  of  Florida — or  in  Louisiana,  with  pelicans 
breeding ; 

Otherways,  there,  atwixt  the  banks  of  the  Arkansaw,  the 
Eio  Grande,  the  Nueces,  the  Brazos,  the  Tombig- 
bee,  the  Red  River,  the  Saskatchawan,  or  the 
Osage,  I  with  the  spring  waters  laughing  and 
skipping  and  running  ; 

Northward,  on  the  sands,  on  some  shallow  bay  of  Pau- 
manok,  I,  with  parties  of  snowy  herons  wading 
in  the  wet  to  seek  worms  and  aquatic  plants  ; 

Retreating,  triumphantly  twittering,  the  king-bird,  from 
piercing  the  crow  with  its  bill,  for  amusement — 
And  I  triumphantly  twittering  ; 


16  i  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

The  migrating  flock  of  wild  geese  alighting  in  autumn 
to  refresh  themselves — the  body  of  the  flock  feed 
— the  sentinels  outside  move  around  with  erect 
heads  watching,  and  are  from  time  to  time  re- 
liev'd  by  other  sentinels — And  I  feeding  and 
taking  turns  with  the  rest ; 

In  Kanadian  forests,  the  moose,  large  as  an  ox,  corner'd 
by  hunters,  rising  desperately  on  his  hind-feet, 
and  plunging  with  his  fore-feet,  the  hoofs  as 
sharp  as  knives — And  I,  plunging  at  the  hunters, 
corner'd  and  desperate  ; 

In  the  Mannahatta,  streets,  piers,  shipping,  store-houses, 
and  the  countless  workmen  working  in  the  shops, 

And  I  too  of  the  Mannahatta,  singing  thereof — and  no 
Jess  in  myself  than  the  whole  of  the  Mannahatta 
in  itself, 

Singing  the  song  of  These,  my  ever-united  lands — my 
body  no  more  inevitably  united,  part  to  part,  and 
made  one  identity,  any  more  than  my  lands  are 
inevitably  united,  and  made  ONE  IDENTITY  ; 

Nativities,  climates,  the  grass  of  the  great  Pastoral 
Plains ; 

Cities,  labors,  death,  animals,  products,  war,  good  and 
evil — these  me, 

These  affording,  in  all  their  particulars,  endless  feuil- 
lage  to  me  and  to  America,  how  can  I  do  less 
than  pass  the  clew  of  the  union  of  them,  to  afford 
the  like  to  you? 

Whoever  you  are !  how  can  I  but  offer  you  divine  leaves, 
that  you  also  be  eligible  as  I  am  ? 

How  can  I  but,  as  here,  chanting,  invite  you  for  your 
self  to  collect  bouquets  of  the  incomparable 
feuillage  of  These  States? 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SONG  OF  THE  BROAD-AXE. 


1  WEAPON,  shapely,  naked,  wan! 
Head  from  the  mother's  bowels  drawn ! 

Wooded  flesh  and  metal  bone !  limb  only  one,  and  lip 

only  one ! 
Gray-blue  leaf  by  red-heat  grown !  helve  produced  from 

a  little  seed  sown! 
Resting  the  grass  amid  and  upon, 
To  be  lean'd,  and  to  lean  on. 

2  Strong  shapes,  and  attributes  of  strong  shapes — mas 

culine  trades,  sights  and  sounds  ; 
Long  varied  train  of  an  emblem,  dabs  of  music  ; 
Fingers  of  the  organist  skipping  staccato  over  the  keys 

of  the  great  organ. 

2 

3  Welcome  are  all  earth's  lands,  each  for  its  kind  ; 
Welcome  are  lands  of  pine  and  oak ; 
Welcome  are  lands  of  the  lemon  and  fig  ; 
Welcome  are  lands  of  gold  ; 

Welcome  are  lands  of  wheat  and  maize — welcome  those 

of  the  grape  ; 

Welcome  are  lands  of  sugar  and  rice; 
Welcome  the  cotton-lands — welcome  those  of  the  white 

potato  and  sweet  potato  ; 
Welcome  are  mountains,  flats,  sands,  forests,  prairies ; 


166  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Welcome  the  rich  borders  of  rivers,  table-lands,  open 
ings ; 

Welcome  the  measureless  grazing-laiids — welcome  the 
teeming  soil  of  orchards,  flax,  honey,  hemp ; 

Welcome  just  as  much  the  other  more  hard-faced  lands; 

Lands  rich  as  lands  of  gold,  or  wheat  and  fruit  lands  ; 

Lands  of  mines,  lands  of  the  manly  and  rugged  ores  ; 

Lands  of  coal,  copper,  lead,  tin,  zinc  ; 

LANDS  or  IKON  !  lands  of  the  make  of  the  axe ! 


4  The  log  at  the  wood-pile,  the  axe  supported  by  it ; 
The  sylvan  hut,  the  vine  over  the  doorway,  the  space 

cleared  for  a  garden, 
The  irregular  tapping  of  rain  down  on  the  leaves,  after 

the  storm  is  lull'd, 
The  wailing  and  moaning  at  intervals,  the  thought  of 

the  sea, 
The  thought  of  ships  struck  in  the  storm,  and  put  on 

their  beam  ends,  and  the  cutting  away  of  masts; 
The  sentiment  of  the  huge   timbers  of  old-fashion'd 

houses  and  barns ; 
The  remember'd  print  or  narrative,  the  voyage  at  a 

venture  of  men,  families,  goods, 
The  disembarkation,  the  founding  of  a  new  city, 
The  voyage  of  those  who  sought  a  New  England  and 

found  it — the  outset  anywhere, 
The  settlements  of  the  Arkansas,  Colorado,  Ottawa, 

Willamette, 

The  slow  progress,  the  scant  fare,  the  axe,  rifle,  saddle 
bags  ; 

The  beauty  of  all  adventurous  and  daring  persons, 
The  beauty  of  wood-boys  and  wood-men,  with  their 

clear  untrimm'd  faces, 
The  beauty  of  independence,  departure,  actions  that 

rely  on  themselves, 
The  American  contempt  for  statutes  and  ceremonies, 

the  boundless  impatience  of  restraint, 
The  loose  drift  of  character,  the  inkling  through  ran 
dom  types,  the  solidification  ; 


SONG  OF  THE  BROAD-AXE.  167 

The  butcher  in  the  slaughter-house,  the  hands  aboard 
schooners  and  sloops,  the  raftsman,  the  pioneer, 

Lumbermen  in  their  winter  camp,  day-break  in  the 
woods,  stripes  of  snow  on  the  limbs  of  trees,  the 
occasional  snapping. 

The  glad  clear  sound  of  one's  own  voice,  the  merry 
song,  the  natural  life  of  the  woods,  the  strong 
day's  work, 

The  blazing  fire  at  night,  the  sweet  taste  of  supper,  the 
talk,  the  bed  of  hemlock  boughs,  and  the  bear 
skin  ; 

— The  house-builder  at  work  in  cities  or  anywhere, 

The  preparatory  jointing,  squaring,  sawing,  mortising, 

The  hoist-up  of  beams,  the  push  of  them  in  their  places, 
laying  them  regular, 

Setting  the  studs  by  their  tenons  in  the  mortises,  accord 
ing  as  they  were  prepared, 

The  blows  of  mallets  and  hammers,  the  attitudes  of  the 
men,  their  curv'd  limbs, 

Bending,  standing,  astride  the  beams,  driving  in  pins, 
holding  on  by  posts  and  braces, 

The  hook'd  arm  over  the  plate,  the  other  arm  wielding 
the  axe, 

The  floor-men  forcing  the  planks  close,  to  be  nail'd, 

Their  postures  bringing  their  weapons  downward  on 
the  bearers, 

The  echoes  resounding  through  the  vacant  building  ; 

The  huge  store-house  carried  up  in  the  city,  well  under 
way, 

The  six  framing-men,  two  in  the  middle,  and  two  at 
each  end,  carefully  bearing  on  their  shoulders  a 
heavy  stick  for  a  cross-beam, 

The  crowded  line  of  masons  with  trowels  in  their  right 
hands,  rapidly  laying  the  long  side-wail,  two 
hundred  feet  from  front  to  rear, 

The  flexible  rise  and  fall  of  backs,  the  continual  click 
of  the  trowels  striking  the  bricks, 

The  bricks,  one  after  another,  each  laid  so  workman 
like  in  its  place,  and  set  with  a  knock  of  the 
trowel-handle, 


168  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

The  piles  of  materials,  the  mortar  on  the  mortar-boards, 

and  the  steady  replenishing  by  the  hod-men  ; 
— Spar-rnakers  in  the  spar-yard,  the  swarming  row  of 

well-grown  apprentices, 
The   swing   of    their    axes    on   the    square-hew'd  log, 

shaping  it  toward  the  shape  of  a  mast, 
The  brisk  short  crackle  of  the  steel   driven  slantingly 

into  the  pine, 
The  butter-color'd  chips  flying  off  in  great  flakes  and 

slivers, 
The  limber  motion  of  brawny  young  arms  and  hips  in 

easy  costumes ; 
The  constructor  of  wharves,  bridges,  piers,  bulk-heads, 

floats,  stays  against  the  sea  ; 
— The  city  fireman — the  fire  that  suddenly  bursts  forth 

in  the  close-pack'd  square, 
The   arriving   engines,  the  hoarse   shouts,  the  nimble 

stepping  and  daring, 
The   strong  command  through  the  fire-trumpets,  the 

falling  in  line,   the  rise  and  fall  of  the   arms 

forcing  the  water, 
The  slender,   spasmic,   blue-white  jets — the    bringing 

to    bear  of  the  hooks  and  ladders,  and  their 

execution, 
The  crash  and  cut  away  of  connecting  wood-work,  or 

through  floors,  if  the  fire  smoulders  under  them, 
The  crowd  with  their   lit  faces,  watching — the  glare 

and  dense  shadows ; 
— The  forger  at  his  forge-furnace,  and  the  user  of  iron 

after  him, 
The  maker  of  the  axe  large  and  small,  and  the  welder 

and  temperer, 
The  chooser  breathing  his  breath  on  the  cold  steel, 

and  trying  the  edge  with  his  thumb, 
The  one  who  clean-shapes  the  handle,  and  sets  it  firmly 

in  the  socket  ; 
The  shadowy  processions  of  the  portraits  of  the  past 

users  also, 

The  primal  patient  mechanics,  the  architects  and  en 
gineers, 
The  far-off  Assyrian  edifice  and  Mizra  edifice, 


SONG  OF  THE  BBOAD-AXE.  169 

The  Roman  lictors  preceding  the  consuls, 

The  antique  European  warrior  with  his  axe  in  combat, 

The  uplifted  arm,  the  clatter  of  blows  on  the  helmeted 

head, 
The  death-howl,  the  limpsey  tumbling  body,  the  rush 

of  friend  and  foe  thither, 

The  siege  of  revolted  lieges  determin'd  for  liberty, 
The  summons  to  surrender,  the  battering  at  castle  gates, 

the  truce  and  parley  ; 
The  sack  of  an  old  city  in  its  time, 
The  bursting  in  of  mercenaries  and  bigots  tumultuously 

and  disorderly, 

Eoar,  flames,  blood,  drunkenness,  madness, 
Goods  freely  rifled  from  houses  and  temples,  screams  of 

women  in  the  gripe  of  brigands, 
Craft  and  thievery  of  camp-followers,  men  running,  old 

persons  despairing, 

The  hell  of  war,  the  cruelties  of  creeds, 
The  list  of  all  executive  deeds  and  words,  just  or  unjust, 
The  .power  of  personality,  just  or  unjust. 


6  Muscle  and  pluck  forever ! 
What  invigorates  life,  invigorates  death, 
And  the  dead  advance  as  much  as  the  living  advance, 
And  the  future  is  no  more  uncertain  than  the  present, 
And  the  roughness  of  the  earth  and  of  man  encloses  as 
much  as  the  delicatesse  of  the  earth  and  of  man, 
And  nothing  endures  but  personal  qualities. 

6  What  do  you  think  endures  ? 

Do  you  think  the  great  city  endures  ? 

Or  a  teeming  manufacturing  state  ?  or  a  prepared  con 
stitution  ?  or  the  best  built  steamships  ? 

Or  hotels  of  granite  and  iron  ?  or  any  chef-d'ceuvres  of 
engineering,  forts,  armaments  ? 

7  Away !   These  are  not  to  be  cherish'd  for  themselves  ; 
They  fill  their  hour,  the  dancers  dance,  the  musicians 

play  for  them  ; 
8 


170  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  show  passes,  all  does  well  enough  of  course, 
All  does  very  well  till  one  flash  of  defiance. 

8  The  great  city  is  that  which  has  the  greatest  man  or 

woman  ; 

If  it  be  a  few  ragged  huts,  it  is  still  the  greatest  city  in 
the  whole  world. 

5 

9  The  place  where  the  great  city  stands  is  not  the 

place  of  stretch'd  wharves,  docks,  manufactures, 

deposits  of  produce, 
Nor  the  place  of  ceaseless  salutes  of  new  comers,  or  the 

anchor-lifters  of  the  departing, 
Nor  the  place  of  the  tallest  and  costliest  buildings,  or 

shops  selling  goods  from  the  rest  of  the  earth, 
Nor  the  place  of  the  best  libraries  and  schools — nor  the 

place  where  money  is  plentiest, 
Nor  the  place  of  the  most  numerous  population. 

10  Where  the  city  stands  with  the  brawniest  breed  of 

orators  and  bards ; 

Where  the  city  stands  that  is  beloved  by  these,  and 
loves  them  in  return,  and  understands  them  ; 

Where  no  monuments  exist  to  heroes,  but  in  the  com 
mon  words  and  deeds ; 

Where  thrift  is  in  its  place,  and  prudence  is  in  its  place  ; 

Where  the  men  and  women  think  lightly  of  the  laws  ; 

Where  the  slave  ceases,  and  the  master  of  slaves  ceases  ; 

Where  the  populace  rise  at  once  against  the  never- 
ending  audacity  of  elected  persons  ; 

Where  fierce  men  and  women  pour  forth,  as  the  sea  to 
the  whistle  of  death  pours  its  sweeping  and  un- 
ript  waves ; 

Where  outside  authority  enters  always  after  the  preced 
ence  of  inside  authority ; 

Where  the  citizen  is  always  the  head  and  ideal — and 
President,  Mayor,  Governor,  and  what  not,  are 
agents  for  pay ; 

Where  children  are  taught  to  be  laws  to  themselves, 
and  to  depend  on  themselves  ; 


SONG  OF  THE  BKOAD-AXE.  171 

Where  equanimity  is  illustrated  in  affairs  ; 
Where  speculations  on  the  Soul  are  encouraged  ; 
Where  women  walk  in  public  processions  in  the  streets, 

the  same  as  the  men, 
Where  they  enter  the  public  assembly  and  take  places 

the  same  as  the  men  ; 

Where  the  city  of  the  faithfulest  friends  stands  ; 
Where  the  city  of  the  cleanliness  of  the  sexes  stands  ; 
Where  the  city  of  the  healthiest  fathers  stands  ; 
Where  the  city  of  the  best-bodied  mothers  stands, 
There  the  great  city  stands. 

6 

11  How  beggarly  appear  arguments  before  a  defiant  deed! 
How  the  floridness  of  the  materials  of  cities  shrivels 

before  a  man's  or  woman's  look ! 

12  All  waits,  or  goes  by  default,  till  a  strong  being  ap 

pears  ; 

A  strong  being  is  the  proof  of  the  race,  and  of  the  abil 
ity  of  the  universe  ; 

When  he  or  she  appears,  materials  are  overaw'd, 

The  dispute  on  the  Soul  stops, 

The  old  customs  and  phrases  are  confronted,  turn'd 
back,  or  laid  away. 

13  What  is  your  money-making  now?  what  can  it  do  now? 
What  is  your  respectability  now  ? 

What  are  your  theology,  tuition,  society,  traditions, 

statute-books,  now? 
Where  are  your  jibes  of  being  now  ? 
Where  are  your  cavils  about  the  Soul  now  ? 

7 

14  A  sterile  landscape  covers  the  ore — there  is  as  good 

as  the  best,  for  all  the  forbidding  appearance  ; 
There  is  the  mine,  there  are  the  miners  ; 
The  forge-furnace  is  there,  the  melt  is  accomplished  ; 

the  hammers-men  are  at  hand  with  their  tongs 

and  hammers  ; 
What  always  served,  and  always  serves,  is  at  hand. 


172  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

35  Than  this,  nothing  has  better  served — it  has  served  all  : 
Served  the  fluent-tongued  and  subtle-sensed  Greek,  and 

long  ere  the  Greek  : 
Served  in  building  the  buildings  that  last  longer  than 

any; 
Served  the  Hebrew,  the  Persian,  the  most  ancient  Hin- 

dostanee  ; 
Served  the  mound-raiser  on  the  Mississippi — served 

those  whose  relics  remain  in  Central  America  ; 
Served  Albic  temples  in  woods  or  on  plains,  with  un 
hewn  pillars,  and  the  druids  ; 
Served  the  artificial   clefts,   vast,  high,  silent,  on  the 

snow-cover'd  hills  of  Scandinavia  ; 
Served  those  who,  time  out  of  mind,  made  on  the  gran 
ite  walls  rough  sketches  of  the  sun,  moon,  stars, 

ships,  ocean-waves  ; 
Served  the  paths  of  the  irruptions  of  the  Goths — served 

the  pastoral  tribes  and  nomads  ; 
Served  the  long,  long   distant  Kelt — served  the  hardy 

pirates  of  the  Baltic  ; 
Served  before  any  of  those,  the  venerable  and  harmless 

men  of  Ethiopia  ; 
Served  the  making  of  helms  for  the  galleys  of  pleasure, 

and  the  making  of  those  for  war  ; 
Served  all  great  works  on  land,  and  all  great  works  on 

the  sea  ; 

For  the  mediaeval  ages,  and  before  the  mediaeval  ages  ; 
Served  not  the  living  only,  then  as  now,  but  served  the 

dead. 

8 

16  I  see  the  European  headsman  ; 

He  stands  mask'd,  clothed  in  red,  with  huge  legs,  and 

strong  naked  arms, 
And  leans  on  a  ponderous  axe. 

17  (Whom  have  you  slaughter'd  lately,  European  heads 

man? 
Whose  is  that  blood  upon  you,  so  wet  and  sticky  ?) 

18  I  see  the  clear  sunsets  of  the  martyrs  ; 


SONG  OF  THE  BROAD-AXE.  173 

I  see  from  the  scaffolds  the  descending  ghosts, 
Ghosts  of  dead  lords,  uncrown'd  ladies,  impeach'd  min 
isters,  rejected  kings, 

Rivals,  traitors,  poisoners,  disgraced  chieftains,  and  the 
rest. 

19  I  see  those  who  in  any  land  have  died  for  the  good 

cause ; 
The  seed  is  spare,  nevertheless  the  crop  shall  never  run 

out ; 
(Mind  you,  O  foreign  kings,  O  priests,  the  crop  shall 

never  run  out.) 

20  I  see  the  blood  wash'd  entirely  away  from  the  axe ; 
Both  blade  and  helve  are  clean  ; 

They  spirt  no  more  the  blood  of  European  nobles — 
they  clasp  no  more  the  necks  of  queens. 

21  I  see  the  headsman  withdraw  and  become  useless  ; 

I  see  the  scaffold  untrodden  and  mouldy — I  see  no 

longer  any  axe  upon  it ; 
I  see  the  mighty  and  friendly  emblem  of  the  power  of 

my  own  race — the  newest,  largest  race. 


22  (America !  I  do  not  vaunt  my  love  for  you  ; 
I  have  what  I  have.) 

23  The  axe  leaps! 

The  solid  forest  gives  fluid  utterances  ; 

They  tumble  forth,  they  rise  and  form, 

Hut,  tent,  landing,  survey, 

Flail,  plough,  pick,  crowbar,  spade, 

Shingle,  rail,  prop,  wainscot,  jamb,  lath,  panel,  gable, 

Citadel,  ceiling,  saloon,  academy,  organ,  exhibition- 
house,  library, 

Cornice,  trellis,  pilaster,  balcony,  window,  shutter,  tur 
ret,  porch, 

Hoe,  rake,  pitch-fork,  pencil,  wagon,  staff,  saw,  jack- 
plane,  mallet,  wedge,  rounce, 


174  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

Chair,  tub,  hoop,  table,  wicket,  vane,  sash,  floor, 
Work-box,  chest,  sfcring'd  instrument,  boat,  frame,  and 

what  not, 

Capitols  of  States,  and  capitol  of  the  nation  of  States, 
Long  stately  rows  in  avenues,  hospitals  for  orphans,  or 

for  the  poor  or  sick, 
Manhattan  steamboats  and  clippers,  taking  the  measure 

of  all  seas. 

24  The  shapes  arise! 

Shapes  of  the  using  of  axes  anyhow,  and  the  users,  and 

all  that  neighbors  them, 
Cutters  down  of  wood,  and  haulers  of  it  to  the  Penob- 

scot  or  Kennebec, 
Dwellers  in  cabins  among  the  Californian  mountains,  or 

by  the  little  lakes,  or  on  the  Columbia, 
Dwellers  south  on  the  banks  of  the  Gila  or  Eio  Grande 

— friendly  gatherings,  the  characters  and  fun, 
Dwellers  up  north  in  Minnesota  and  by  the  Yellowstone 

river — dwellers  on  coasts  and  off  coasts, 
Seal-fishers,  whalers,  arctic  seamen  breaking  passages 

through  the  ice. 

25  The  shapes  arise ! 

Shapes  of  factories,  arsenals,  foundries,  markets ; 
Shapes  of  the  two-threaded  tracks  of  railroads  ; 
Shapes  of  the  sleepers  of  bridges,  vast  frameworks, 

girders,  arches  ; 
Shapes  of  the  fleets  of  barges,  tows,  lake  and  canal  craft, 

river  craft. 

26  The  shapes  arise ! 

Ship-yards  and  dry-docks  along  the  Eastern  and  West 
ern  Seas,  and  in  many  a  bay  and  by-place, 

The  live-oak  kelsons,  the  pine  planks,  the  spars,  the 
hackmatack-roots  for  knees, 

The  ships  themselves  on  their  ways,  the  tiers  of  scaf 
folds,  the  workmen  busy  outside  and  inside, 

The  tools  lying  around,  the  great  auger  and  little  auger, 
the  adze,  bolt,  line,  square,  gouge,  and  bead- 
plane. 


SONG  OF  THE  BROAD-AXE.  175 

10 

97  The  shapes  arise ! 

The  shape  measur'd,  saw'd,  jack'd,  join'd,  stain'd, 

The  coffin-shape  for  the  dead  to  lie  within  in  his  shroud; 

The  shape  got  out  in  posts,  in  the  bedstead  posts,  in 

the  posts  of  the  bride's  bed  ; 
The  shape  of  the  little  trough,  the  shape  of  the  rockers 

beneath,  the  shape  of  the  babe's  cradle  ; 
The  shape   of    the   floor-planks,   the  floor-planks  for 

dancers'  feet ; 
The  shape  of  the  planks  of  the  family  home,  the  home 

of  the  friendly  parents  and  children, 
The  shape  of  the  roof  of  the  home  of  the  happy  young 

man  and  woman — the  roof  over  the  well-married 

young  man  and  woman, 
The  roof  over  the  supper  joyously  cook'd  by  the  chaste 

wife,  and  joyously  eaten  by  the  chaste  husband, 

content  after  his  day's  work. 

!8  The  shapes  arise ! 

The  shape  of  the  prisoner's  place  in  the  court-room,  and 
of  him  or  her  seated  in  the  place  ; 

The  shape  of  the  liquor-bar  lean'd  against  by  the  young 
rum-drinker  and  the  old  rum-drinker  ; 

The  shape  of  the  shamed  and  angry  stairs,  trod  by 
sneaking  footsteps  ; 

The  shape  of  the  sly  settee,  and  the  adulterous  un 
wholesome  couple ; 

The  shape  of  the  gambling-board  with  its  devilish  win 
nings  and  losings ; 

The  shape  of  the  step-ladder  for  the  convicted  and  sen 
tenced  murderer,  the  murderer  with  haggard 
face  and  pinion'd  arms, 

The  sheriff  at  hand  with  his  deputies,  the  silent  and 
white-lipp'd  crowd,  the  dangling  of  the  rope. 

!9  The  shapes  arise  ! 

Shapes  of  doors  giving  many  exits  and  entrances  ; 

The  door  passing  the  dissever'd  friend,  flush'd  and  in 

haste ; 
The  door  that  admits  good  news  and  bad  news  ; 


176  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

The  door  whence  the  son  left  home,  confident  and 
puff'd  up ; 

The  door  he  enter'd  again  from  a  long  and  scandalous 
absence,  diseas'd,  broken  down,  without  inno 
cence,  without  means. 

11 

30  Her  shape  arises, 

She,  less  guarded  than  ever,  yet  more  guarded  than 

ever; 
The  gross  and  soil'd  she  moves  among  do  not  make  her 

gross  and  soil'd  ; 
She  knows  the  thoughts  as  she  passes — nothing  is  con- 

ceal'd  from  her ; 

She  is  none  the  less  considerate  or  friendly  therefor  ; 
She  is  the  best  belov'd — it  is  without  exception — she 

has  no  reason  to  fear,  and  she  does  not  fear  ; 
Oaths,  quarrels,  hiccupp'd  songs,  smutty  expressions, 

are  idle  to  her  as  she  passes  ; 
She  is  silent — she  is  possessed  of  herself — they  do  not 

offend  her ; 
She  receives  them  as  the  laws  of  nature  receive  them 

— she  is  strong, 
She  too  is  a  law  of  nature — there  is  no  law  stronger 

than  she  is. 

12 

al  The  main  shapes  arise ! 

Shapes  of  Democracy,  total — result  of  centuries  ; 

Shapes,  ever  projecting  other  shapes ; 

Shapes  of  turbulent  manly  cities  ; 

Shapes  of  the  friends  and  home-givers  of  the  whole 

earth, 
Shapes  bracing  the  earth,  and  braced  with  the  whole 

earth. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SONG  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD. 


1  AFOOT  and  light-hearted,  I  take  to  the  open  road, 
Healthy,  free,  the  world  before  me, 

The  long  brown  path  before  me,  leading  wherever  I 
choose. 

2  Henceforth  I  ask  not  good-fortune — I  myself  am  good- 

fortune  ; 
Henceforth  I  whimper   no   more,  postpone  no  more, 

need  nothing, 
Strong  and  content,  I  travel  the  open  road. 

3  The  earth — that  is  sufficient ; 

I  do  not  want  the  constellations  any  nearer  ; 

I  know  they  are  very  well  where  they  are  ; 

I  know  they  suffice  for  those  who  belong  to  them. 

4  (Still  here  I  carry  my  old  delicious  burdens  ; 

I  carry  them,  men  and  women — I  carry  them  with  me 

wherever  I  go  ; 

I  swear  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  get  rid  of  them  ; 
I  am  filTd  with  them,  and  I  will  fill  them  in  return.) 


5  You  road  I  enter  upon  and  look  around !  I  believe 

you  are  not  all  that  is  here  ; 
I  believe  that  much  unseen  is  also  here. 


178  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

6  Here  the  profound  lesson  of  reception,  neither  prefer 
ence  or  denial ; 

The  black  with  his  woolly  head,  the  felon,  the  diseased, 
the  illiterate  person,  are  not  denied  ; 

The  birth,  the  hasting  after  the  physician,  the  beggar's 
tramp,  the  drunkard's  stagger,  the  laughing  party 
of  mechanics, 

The  escaped  youth,  the  rich  person's  carriage,  the  fop, 
the  eloping  couple, 

The  early  market-man,  the  hearse,  the  moving  of  fur 
niture  into  the  town,  the  return  back  from  the 
town, 

They  pass — I  also  pass — anything  passes — none  can  be 
interdicted ; 

None  but  are  accepted — none  but  are  dear  to  me. 


7  You  air  that  serves  me  with  breath  to  speak ! 

You  objects  that  call  from  diffusion  my  meanings,  and 
give  them  shape ! 

You  light  that  wraps  me  and  all  things  in  delicate 
equable  showers! 

You  paths  worn  in  the  irregular  hollows  by  the  road 
sides  ! 

I  think  you  are  latent  with  unseen  existences — you  are 
so  dear  to  me. 

8  You  flagg'd  walks  of  the  cities !  you  strong  curbs  at 

the  edges ! 

You  ferries!  you  planks  and  posts  of  wharves!  you 
timber-lined  sides !  you  distant  ships ! 

You  rows  of  houses !  you  window-pierc'd  facades !  you 
roofs ! 

You  porches  and  entrances!  you  copings  and  iron 
guards ! 

You  windows  whose  transparent  shells  might  expose  so 
much ! 

You  doors  and  ascending  steps !  you  arches ! 

You  gray  stones  of  interminable  pavements !  you  trod 
den  crossings ! 


SONG  OF  THE  OPLN  ROAD.  179 

From  all  that  has  been  near  you,  I  believe  you  have  im 
parted  to  yourselves,  and  now  would  impart  the 
same  secretly  to  me  ; 

From  the  living  and  the  dead  I  think  you  have  peopled 
yoiir  impassive  surfaces,  and  the  spirits  thereof 
would  be  evident  and  amicable  with  me. 

4 

9  The  earth  expanding  right  hand  and  left  hand, 
The  picture  alive,  every  part  in  its  best  light, 

The  music  falling  in  where  it  is  wanted,  and  stopping 

where  it  is  not  wanted, 
The  cheerful  voice  of  the  public  road — the  gay  fresh 

sentiment  of  the  road. 

10  O  highway  I  travel !  O  public  road !  do  you  say  to 

me,  Do  not  leave  me  ? 

Do  you  say,  Venture  not  f    If  you  leave  me,  you  are  lost  9 
Do  you  say,  /  am  already  prepared — 1  am  well-beaten  and 

undented — adhere  to  me  ? 

11  O  public  road!   I  say  back,  I  am  not  afraid  to  leave 

you — yet  I  love  you  ; 

You  express  me  better  than  I  can  express  myself ; 
You  shall  be  more  to  me  than  my  poem. 

12  I  think  heroic  deeds  were   all  conceiv'd  in  the  open 

air,  and  all  great  poems  also  ; 

I  think  I  could  stop  here  myself,  and  do  miracles  ; 
(My  judgments,  thoughts,  I  henceforth  try  by  the  open 

air,  the  road  ;) 
I  think  whatever  I  shall  meet  on  the  road  I  shall  like, 

and  whoever  beholds  me  shall  like  me  ; 
I  think  whoever  I  see  must  be  happy. 


13  From  this  hour,  freedom ! 

From  this  hour  I  ordain  myself  loos'd  of  limits  and 

imaginary  lines, 
Going  where  I  list,  my  own  master,  total  and  absolute, 


180  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Listening  toothers,  and  considering  well  what  they  say, 
Pausing,  searching,  receiving,  contemplating, 
Gently,  but  with  undeniable  will,  divesting  myself  of 
the  holds  that  would  hold  me. 

14  I  inhale  great  draughts  of  space  ; 

The  east  and  the  west  are  mine,  and  the  north  and  the 
south  are  mine. 

15  I  am  larger,  better  than  I  thought ; 

I  did  not  know  I  held  so  much  goodness. 

16  All  seems  beautiful  to  me  ; 

I  can  repeat  over  to  men  and  women,  You  have  done 
such  good  to  me,  I  would  do  the  same  to  you. 

17  I  will  recruit  for  myself  and  you  as  I  go  ; 

I  will  scatter  myself  among  men  and  women  as  I  go  ; 
I   will  toss  the  new  gladness  and  roughness  among 

them ; 

Whoever  denies  me,  it  shall  not  trouble  me  ; 
Whoever  accepts  me,  he  or  she  shall  be  blessed,  and 

shall  bless  me. 


18  Now  if  a  thousand  perfect  men  were  to  appear,  it 

would  not  amaze  me  ; 

Now  if  a  thousand  beautiful  forms  of  women  appeared, 
it  would  not  astonish  me. 

19  Now  I  see  the  secret  of  the  making  of  the  best  per 

sons, 

It  is  to  grow  in  the  open  air,  and  to  eat  and  sleep  with 
the  earth. 

20  Here  a  great  personal  deed  has  room  ; 

A  great  deed  seizes  upon  the  hearts  of  the  whole  race 

of  men, 
Its  effusion  of  strength  and  will  overwhelms  law,  and 

mocks  all  authority  and  all  argument  against  it. 


SONG  OP  THE  OPEN  ROAD.  181 

21  Here  is  the  test  of  wisdom  ; 
Wisdom  is  not  finally  tested  in  schools  ; 

Wisdom  cannot  be  pass'd  from  one  having  it,  to  an 
other  not  having  it ; 

Wisdom  is  of  the  Soul,  is  not  susceptible  of  proof,  is 
its  own  proof, 

Applies  to  all  stages  and  objects  and  qualities,  and  is 
content, 

Is  the  certainty  of  the  reality  and  immortality  of  things, 
and  the  excellence  of  things  ; 

Something  there  is  in  the  float  of  the  sight  of  things 
that  provokes  it  out  of  the  Soul. 

22  Now  I  reexamine  philosophies  and  religions, 

They  may  prove  well  in  lecture-rooms,  yet  not  prove  at 
all  under  the  spacious  clouds,  and  along  the 
landscape  and  flowing  currents. 

23  Here  is  realization  ; 

Here  is  a  man  tallied — he  realizes  here  what  he  has  in 

him  ; 
The  past,  the  future,  majesty,  love— if  they  are  vacant  of 

you,  you  are  vacant  of  them. 

24  Only  the  kernel  of  every  object  nourishes  ; 
Where  is  he  who  tears  off  the  husks  for  you  and  me  ? 
Where  is  he  that  undoes  stratagems  and  envelopes  for 

you  and  me  ? 

25  Here  is  adhesiveness— it  is  not  previously  fashion'd — 

it  is  apropos  ; 
Do  you  know  what  it  is,  as  you  pass,  to  be  loved  by 

strangers  ? 
Do  you  know  the  talk  of  those  turning  eye-balls  ? 

7 

26  Here  is  the  efflux  of  the  Soul ; 

The  efflux  of  the  Soul  comes  from  within,  through  em- 
bower'd  gates,  ever  provoking  questions  : 

These  yearnings,  why  are  they?  These  thoughts  in  the 
darkness,  why  are  they? 


182  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Why  are  there  men  and  women  that  while  they  are 
nigh  me,  the  sun-light  expands  my  blood  ? 

Why,  when  they  leave  me,  do  my  pennants  of  joy  sink 
flat  and  lank  ? 

Why  are  there  trees  I  never  walk  under,  but  large  and 
melodious  thoughts  descend  upon  me  ? 

(I  think  they  hang  there  winter  and  summer  on  those 
trees,  and  always  drop  fruit  as  I  pass;) 

What  is  it  I  interchange  so  suddenly  with  strangers  ? 

What  with  some  driver,  as  I  ride  on  the  seat  by  his 
side? 

What  with  some  fisherman,  drawing  his  seine  by  the 
shore,  as  I  walk  by,  and  pause  ? 

What  gives  me  to  be  free  to  a  woman's  or  man's  good 
will  ?  What  gives  them  to  be  free  to  mine  ? 

8 

27  The  efflux  of  the  Soul  is  happiness — here  is  happi 

ness; 

I  think  it  pervades  the  open  air,  waiting  at  all  times  ; 
Now  it  flows  unto  us — we  are  rightly  charged. 

28  Here  rises  the  fluid  and  attaching  character  ; 

The  fluid  and  attaching  character  is  the  freshness  and 
sweetness  of  man  and  woman  ; 

(The  herbs  of  the  morning  sprout  no  fresher  and  sweeter 
every  day  out  of  the  roots  of  themselves,  than  it 
sprouts  fresh  and  sweet  continually  out  of  itself.) 

29  Toward  the  fluid  and  attaching  character  exudes  the 

sweat  of  the  love  of  young  and  old  ; 
From  it  falls  distill'd  the  charm  that  mocks  beauty  and 

attainments  ; 
Toward  it  heaves  the  shuddering  longing  ache  of  contact. 

9 

30  Allons !  whoever  you  are,  come  travel  with  me ! 
Traveling  with  me,  you  find  what  never  tires. 


SONG  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD.  183 

11  The  earth  never  tires  ; 

The  earth  is  rude,  silent,  incomprehensible  at  first — 

Nature  is  rude  and  incomprehensible  at  first ; 
Be  not  discouraged — keep  on— there  are  divine  things, 

well  enveloped ; 
I  swear  to  you  there  are  divine  things  more  beautiful 

than  words  can  tell. 

32  Allons !  we  must  not  stop  here ! 

However  sweet  these  laid-up  stores — however  conve 
nient  this  dwelling,  we  cannot  remain  here  ; 

However  shelter'd  this  port,  and  however  calm  these 
waters,  we  must  not  anchor  here  ; 

However  welcome  the  hospitality  that  surrounds  us,  we 
are  permitted  to  receive  it  but  a  little  while. 

10 

33  Allons !  the  inducements  shall  be  greater  ; 
We  will  sail  pathless  and  wild  seas  ; 

We  will  go  where  winds  blow,  waves  dash,  and  the 
Yankee  clipper  speeds  by  under  full  sail. 

34  Allons !  with  power,  liberty,  the  earth,  the  elements ! 
Health,  defiance,  gayety,  self-esteem,  curiosity ; 
Allons !  from  all  f ormules ! 

From  your  formules,  O  bat-eyed  and  materialistic 
priests ! 

36  The  stale  cadaver  blocks  up  the  passage — the  burial 
waits  no  longer. 

36  Allons !  yet  take  warning ! 

He  traveling  with  me  needs  the  best  blood,  thews,  en 
durance  ; 

None  may  come  to  the  trial,  till  he  or  she  bring  courage 
and  health. 

37  Come  not  here  if  you  have  already  spent  the  best  of 

yourself ; 

Only  those  may  come,  who  come  in  sweet  and  deter- 
min'd  bodies ; 


184  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

No  diseas'd  person — no  rum-drinker  or  venereal  taint 
is  permitted  here. 

38  I  and  mine  do  not  convince  by  arguments,  similes, 

rhymes ; 
We  convince  by  our  presence. 

11 

39  Listen !  I  will  be  honest  with  you  ; 

I  do  not  offer  the  old  smooth  prizes,  but  offer  rough 

new  prizes  ; 
These  are  the  days  that  must  happen  to  you  : 

10  You  shall  not  heap  up  what  is  call'd  riches, 

You  shall  scatter  with  lavish  hand  all  that  you  earn  or 
achieve, 

You  but  arrive  at  the  city  to  which  you  were  destin'd — 
you  hardly  settle  yourself  to  satisfaction,  before 
you  are  call'd  by  an  irresistible  call  to  depart, 

You  shall  be  treated  to  the  ironical  smiles  and  mock- 
ings  of  those  who  remain  behind  you  ; 

What  beckonings  of  love  you  receive,  you  shall  only 
answer  with  passionate  kisses  of  parting, 

You  shall  not  allow  the  hold  of  those  who  spread  their 
reach'd  hands  toward  you. 

12 

41  Allons!  after  the  GKEAT  COMPANIONS!  and  to  belong 

to  them ! 

They  too  are  on  the  road !  they  are  the  swift  and  ma 
jestic  men !  they  are  the  greatest  women. 

42  Over  that  which  hinder'd  them — over  that  which  re 

tarded — passing  impediments  large  or  small, 
Committers  of  crimes,  committers  of  many  beautiful 

virtues, 

Enjoyers  of  calms  of  seas,  and  storms  of  seas, 
Sailors  of  many  a  ship,  walkers  of  many  a  mile  of  land, 
Habitues  of  many  distant  countries,  habitues  of  far- 
distant  dwellings, 


SONG-  OF  THE  OPEN  Bo  AD.  185 

Trusters  of  men  and  women,  observers  of  cities,  solitary 

toilers, 
Pausers  and  contemplators  of  tufts,  blossoms,  shells  of 

the  shore, 
Dancers  at  wedding-dances,  kissers  of  brides,  tender 

helpers  of  children,  bearers  of  children, 
Soldiers  of  revolts,  standers  by  gaping  graves,  lowerers 

down  of  coffins, 
Journeyers  over  consecutive  seasons,  over  the  years — 

the  curious  years,  each  emerging  from  that  which 

preceded  it, 
Journeyers   as  with  companions,   namely,   their  own 

diverse  phases, 

Forth-steppers  from  the  latent  unrealized  baby-days, 
Journeyers  gayly  with  their  own  youth — Journeyers 

with  their  bearded  and  well-grain'd  manhood, 
Journeyers  with  their  womanhood,  ample,  unsurpass'd, 

content, 
Journeyers  with  their  own  sublime  old  age  of  manhood 

or  womanhood, 
Old    age,   calm,   expanded,   broad  with    the  haughty 

breadth  of  the  universe, 
Old  age,  flowing  free  with  the  delicious  near-by  freedom 

of  death. 

13 

43  Allons !   to  that  which  is  endless,  as  it  was  begin- 

ningless, 

To  undergo  much,  tramps  of  days,  rests  of  nights, 
To  merge  all  in  the  travel  they  tend  to,  and  the  days  and 

nights  they  tend  to, 

Again  to  merge  them  in  the  start  of  superior  journeys  ; 
To  see  nothing  anywhere  but  what  you  may  reach  it 

and  pass  it, 
To  conceive  no  time,  however  distant,  but  what  you 

may  reach  it  and  pass  it, 
To  look  up  or  down  no  road  but  it  stretches  and  waits 

for  you — however  long,  but  ifc  stretches  and  waits 

for  you  ; 
To  see  no  being,  not  God's  or  any,  but  you  also  go 

thither, 


186  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

To  see  no  possession  but  you  may  possess  it — enjoying 
all  without  labor  or  purchase — abstracting  the 
feast,  yet  not  abstracting  one  particle  of  it ; 

To  take  the  best  of  the  farmer's  farm  and  the  rich  man's 
elegant  villa,  and  the  chaste  blessings  of  the  well- 
married  couple,  and  the  fruits  of  orchards  and 
flowers  of  gardens, 

To  take  to  your  use  out  of  the  compact  cities  as  you 
pass  through, 

To  carry  buildings  and  streets  with  you  afterward 
wherever  you  go, 

To  gather  the  minds  of  men  out  of  their  brains  as  you 
encounter  them — to  gather  the  love  out  of  their 
hearts, 

To  take  your  lovers  on  the  road  with  you,  for  all  that 
you  leave  them  behind  you, 

To  know  the  universe  itself  as  a  road — as  many  roads — 
as  roads  for  traveling  souls. 

14 

44  The  Soul  travels  ; 

The  body  does  not  travel  as  much  as  the  soul ; 
The  body  has  just  as  great  a  work  as  the  soul,  and  parts 
away  at  last  for  the  journeys  of  the  soul. 

45  All  parts  away  for  the  progress  of  souls  ; 

All  religion,  all  solid  things,  arts,  governments, — all 
that  was  or  is  apparent  upon  this  globe  or  any 
globe,  falls  into  niches  and  corners  before  the 
procession  of  Souls  along  the  grand  roads  of  the 
universe. 

46  Of  the  progress  of  the  souls  of  men  and  women  along 

the  grand  roads  of  the  universe,  all  other  progress 
is  the  needed  emblem  and  sustenance. 

47  Forever  alive,  forever  forward, 

Stately,  solemn,  sad,  withdrawn,  baffled,  mad,  turbulent, 

feeble,  dissatisfied, 
Desperate,  proud,  fond,  sick,  accepted  by  men,  rejected 

by  men, 


SONG-  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD.  187 

They  go  !  they  go !  I  know  that  they  go,  but  I  know 
not  where  they  go  ; 

But  I  know  that  they  go  toward  the  best — toward  some 
thing  great. 

15 

48  Allons  !  whoever  you  are  !  come  forth ! 

You  must  not  stay  sleeping  and  dallying  there  in  the 
house,  though  you  built  it,  or  though  it  has  been 
built  for  you. 

49  Allons  !  out  of  the  dark  confinement ! 

It  is  useless  to  protest — I  know  all,  and  expose  it. 

50  Behold,  through  you  as  bad  as  the  rest, 

Through  the  laughter,   dancing,  dining,  supping,  of 

people, 
Inside  of  dresses  and  ornaments,  inside  of  those  wash'd 

and  trimm'd  faces, 
Behold  a  secret  silent  loathing  and  despair. 

61  No  husband,  no  wife,  no  friend,  trusted  to  hear  the 

confession ; 
Another  self,  a  duplicate  of  every  one,  skulking  and 

hiding  it  goes, 
Formless  and  wordless  through  the  streets  of  the  cities, 

polite  and  bland  in  the  parlors, 
In  the  cars  of  rail-roads,  in  steamboats,  in  the  public 

assembly, 
Home  to  the  houses  of  men  and  women,  at  the  table,  in 

the  bed-room,  everywhere, 
Smartly   attired,   countenance   smiling,   form  upright, 

death  under  the  breast-bones,  hell  under  the 

skull-bones, 
Under  the  broadcloth  and  gloves,  under  the  ribbons 

and  artificial  flowers, 
Keeping  fair  with  the  customs,  speaking  not  a  syllable 

of  itself, 
Speaking  of  anything  else,  but  never  of  itself. 


188  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

16 

52  Aliens  !  through  struggles  and  wars  ! 

The  goal  that  was  named  cannot  be  countermanded. 

53  Have  the  past  struggles  succeeded  ? 

What  has  succeeded  ?  yourself  ?  your  nation  ?  nature  ? 

Now  understand  me  well — It  is  provided  in  the  essence 
of  things,  that  from  any  fruition  of  success,  no 
matter  what,  shall  come  forth  something  to  make 
a  greater  struggle  necessary. 

64  My  call  is  the  call  of  battle — I  nourish  active  rebel 

lion  ; 

He  going  with  me  must  go  well  arm'd  ; 
He  going  with  me  goes  often  with  spare  diet,  poverty, 

angry  enemies,  desertions. 

17 

65  Allons !  the  road  is  before  us ! 

It  is  safe — I  have  tried  it — my  own  feet  have  tried  it  well. 

66  Allons !  be  not  detain'd ! 

Let  the  paper  remain  on  the  desk  unwritten,  and  the 

book  on  the  shelf  unopen'd ! 
Let  the  tools  remain  in  the  workshop !  let  the  money 

remain  unearn'd ! 

Let  the  school  stand !  mind  not  the  cry  of  the  teacher ! 
Let  the  preacher  preach  in  his  pulpit !  let  the  lawyer 

plead  in  the  court,  and  the  judge  expound  the 

law. 

67  Mon  enfant !  I  give  you  my  hand ! 

I  give  you  my  love,  more  precious  than  money, 

I  give  you  myself,  before  preaching  or  law  ; 

Will  you  give  me  yourself  ?  will  you  come  travel  with 

me? 
Shall  we  stick  by  each  other  as  long  as  we  live  ? 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


I  SIT  AND  LOOK  OUT. 

I  SIT  and  look  out  upon  all  the  sorrows  of  the  world, 
and  upon  all  oppression  and  shame  ; 

I  hear  secret  convulsive  sobs  from  young  men,  at  an 
guish  with  themselves,  remorseful  after  deeds 
done ; 

I  see,  in  low  life,  the  mother  misused  by  her  children, 
dying,  neglected,  gaunt,  desperate  ; 

I  see  the  wife  misused  by  her  husband — I  see  the 
treacherous  seducer  of  young  women  ; 

I  mark  the  ranklings  of  jealousy  and  unrequited  love, 
attempted  to  be  hid — I  see  these  sights  on  the 
earth  ; 

I  see  the  workings  of  battle,  pestilence,  tyranny — I  see 
martyrs  and  prisoners  ; 

I  observe  a  famine  at  sea — I  observe  the  sailors  casting 
lots  who  shall  be  kill'd,  to  preserve  the  lives  of 
the  rest ; 

I  observe  the  slights  and  degradations  cast  by  arrogant 
persons  upon  laborers,  the  poor,  and  upon  ne 
groes,  and  the  like  ; 

All  these — All  the  meanness  and  agony  without  end,  I 
sitting,  look  out  upon, 

See,  hear,  and  am  silent. 


ME  IMPERTURBE. 

ME  imperturbe,  standing  at  ease  in  Nature, 

Master  of  all,  or  mistress  of  all — aplomb  in  the  midst 

of  irrational  things, 

Imbued  as  they— passive,  receptive,  silent  as  they, 
Finding    my    occupation,    poverty,   notoriety,   foibles, 

crimes,  less  important  than  I  thought ; 


190  LEAVES  OF  G-KASS. 

Me  private,  or  public,  or  menial,  or  solitary — all  these 

subordinate,  (I  am  eternally  equal  with  the  best 

— I  am  not  subordinate  ;) 
Me  toward  the  Mexican  Sea,  or  in  the  Mannahatta,  or 

the  Tennessee,  or  far  north,  or  inland, 
A  river  man,  or  a  man  of  the  woods,  or  of  any  farm-life 

of  These  States,  or  of  the  coast,  or  the  lakes,  or 

Kanada, 
Me,  wherever  my  life  is  lived,  O  to  be  self-balanced  for 

contingencies ! 
O  to  confront  night,  storms,  hunger,  ridicule,  accidents, 

rebuffs,  as  the  trees  and  animals  do. 


As  I  Lay  with  my  Head  in  your  Lap,  Camerado. 

As  I  lay  with  my  head  in  your  lap,  Camerado, 

The  confession  I  made  I  resume — what  I  said  to  you 

and  the  open  air  I  resume  : 
I  know  I  am  restless,  and  make  others  so  ; 
I  know  my  words  are  weapons,  full  of  danger,  full  of 

death  ; 

(Indeed  I  am  myself  the  real  soldier  ; 
It  is  not  he,  there,  with  his  bayonet,  and  not  the  red- 
striped  artilleryman  ;) 
For  I  confront  peace,  security,  and  all  the  settled  laws, 

to  unsettle  them  ; 
I  am  more  resolute  because  all  have  denied  me,  than  I 

could  ever  have  been  had  all  accepted  me  ; 
I  heed  not^  and  have  never  heeded,  either  experience, 

cautions,  majorities,  nor  ridicule  ; 
And  the  threat  of  what  is  call'd  hell  is  little  or  nothing 

to  me  ; 
And  the  lure  of  what  is  call'd  heaven  is  little  or  nothing 

to  me ; 
. . .  Dear  camerado !  I  confess  I  have  urged  you  onward 

with  me,  and  still  urge  you,  without  the  least 

idea  what  is  our  destination, 
Or  whether  we  shall  be  victorious,  or  utterly  quelTd  and 

defeated. 


LEAVES  OF  OR  ASS. 


CROSSING  BROOKLYN  FERRY. 


i 

1  FLOOD-TIDE  below  me !  I  watch  you  face  to  face  ; 
Clouds  of  the  west !  sun  there  half  an  hour  high !  I  see 

you  also  face  to  face. 

2  Crowds  of  men  and  women  attired  in  the  usual  cos 

tumes  !  how  curious  you  are  to  me  ! 

On  the  ferry-boats,  the  hundreds  and  hundreds  that 
cross,  returning  home,  are  more  curious  to  me 
than  you  suppose  ; 

And  you  that  shall  cross  from  shore  to  shore  years 
hence,  are  more  to  me,  and  more  in  my  medita 
tions,  than  you  might  suppose. 


3  The  impalpable  sustenance  of  me  from  all  things,  at 
all  hours  of  the  day  ; 

The  simple,  compact,  well-join'd  scheme — myself  disin 
tegrated,  every  one  disintegrated,  yet  part  of  the 
scheme  ; 

The  similitudes  of  the  past,  and  those  of  the  future  ; 

The  glories  strung  like  beads  on  my  smallest  sights  and 
hearings — on  the  walk  in  the  street,  and  the  .pas 
sage  over  the  river ; 

The  current  rushing  so  swiftly,  and  swimming  with  me 
far  away  ; 


192  LEAVES"  OF  GBASS. 

The  others  that  are  to  follow  me,  the  ties  between  me 

and  them  ; 
The  certainty  of  others — the  life,  love,  sight,  hearing  of 

others. 

4  Others  will  enter  the  gates  of  the  ferry,  and  cross  from 

shore  to  shore  ; 

Others  will  watch  the  run  of  the  flood-tide  ; 
Others  will  see  the  shipping  of  Manhattan  north  and 

west,  and  the  heights  of  Brooklyn  to  the  south 

and  east ; 

Others  will  see  the  islands  large  and  small ; 
Fifty  years  hence,  others  will  see  them  as  they  cross, 

the  sun  half  an  hour  high  ; 
A  hundred  years  hence,  or  ever  so  many  hundred  years 

hence,  others  will  see  them, 
Will  enjoy  the  sunset,  the  pouring  in  of  the  flood-tide, 

the  falling  back  to  the  sea  of  the  ebb-tide. 


6  It  avails  not,  neither  time  or  place — distance  avails 

not ; 
I  am  with  you,  you  men  and  women  of  a  generation,  or 

ever  so  many  generations  hence  ; 
I  project  myself — also  I  return — I  am  with  you,  and 

know  how  it  is. 

6  Just  as  you  feel  when  you  look  on  the  river  and  sky, 

so  I  felt ; 
Just  as  any  of  you  is  one  of  a  living  crowd,  I  was  one 

of  a  crowd ; 
Just  as  you  are  refresh'd  by  the  gladness  of  the  river 

and  the  bright  flow,  I  was  refresh'd  ; 
Just  as  you  stand  and  lean  on  the  rail,  yet  hurry  with 

the  swift  current,  I  stood,  yet  was  hurried  ; 
Just  as  you  look  on  the  numberless  masts  of  ships,  and 

the  thick-stem'd  pipes  of  steamboats,  I  look'd. 

7  I  too  many  and  many  a  time  cross'd  the  river,  the  sun* 

half  an  hour  high  ; 


CROSSING  BROOKLYN  FERRY.  193 

I  watched   the  Twelfth-month  sea-gulls — I  saw  them 

high  in  the  air,  floating  with  motionless  wings, 

oscillating  their  bodies, 
I  saw  how  the  glistening  yellow  lit  up  parts  of  their 

bodies,  and  left  the  rest  in  strong  shadow, 
I  saw  the  slow-wheeling  circles,  and  the  gradual  edging 

toward  the  south. 

8  I  too  saw  the  reflection  of  the  summer  sky  in  the 

water, 

Had  my  eyes  dazzled  by  the  shimmering  track  of  beams, 
Look'd  at  the  fine  centrifugal  spokes  of  light  round  the 

shape  of  my  head  in  the  sun-lit  water, 
Look'd  on  the  haze  on  the  hills  southward  and  south- 
westward, 
Look'd  on  the  vapor  as  it  flew  in  fleeces  tinged  with 

violet, 
Look'd  toward  the  lower  bay  to  notice  the  arriving 

ships, 

Saw  their  approach,  saw  aboard  those  that  were  near  me, 
Saw  the  white  sails  of  schooners  and  sloops — saw  the 

ships  at  anchor, 
The  sailors  at  work  in  the  rigging,  or  out  astride  the 

spars, 
The  round  masts,  the  swinging  motion  of  the  hulls,  the 

slender  serpentine  pennants, 
The  large  and  small  steamers  in  motion,  the  pilots  in 

their  pilot-houses, 
The  white  wake  left  by  the  passage,  the  quick  tremulous 

whirl  of  the  wheels, 

The  flags  of  all  nations,  the  falling  of  them  at  sun-set, 
The  scallop-edged  waves  in  the  twilight,  the  ladled  cups, 

the  frolicsome  crests  and  glistening, 
The  stretch  afar  growing  dimmer  and  dimmer,  the  gray 

walls  of  the  granite  store-houses  by  the  docks, 
On  the  river  the  shadowy  group,  the  big  steam-tug 

closely  flank'd  on  each  side  by  the  barges — the 

hay-boat,  the  belated  lighter, 
On  the  neighboring  shore,  the  tires  from  the  foundry 

chimneys  burning  high  and  glaringly  into  the 

night, 


194  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Casting  their  flicker  of  black,  contrasted  with  wild  red 
and  yellow  light,  over  the  tops  of  houses,  and 
down  into  the  clefts  of  streets. 


4 

9  These,  and  all  else,  were  to  me  the  same  as  they  are 

to  you ; 
I  project  myself  a  moment  to  tell  you — also  I  return. 

10  I  loved  well  those  cities  ; 

I  loved  well  the  stately  and  rapid  river  ; 

The  men  and  women  I  saw  were  all  near  to  me  ; 

Others  the  same — others  who  look  back  on  me,  because 

1    I  look'd  forward  to  them  ; 

(The  time  will  come,  though  I  stop  here  to-day  and  to 
night.) 


1  What  is  it,  then,  between  us  ? 

What  is  the  count  of  the  scores  or  hundreds  of  years 
between  us  ? 

12  Whatever  it  is,  it  avails  not — distance  avails  not,  and 
place  avails  not. 


13  I  too  lived — Brooklyn,  of  ample  hills,  was  mine  ; 

I  too  walk'd  the   streets   of  Manhattan  Island,  and 

bathed  in  the  waters  around  it ; 
I  too  felt  the  curious  abrupt  questionings  stir  within 

me, 
In  the  day,  among  crowds  of  people,  sometimes  they 

came  upon  me, 
In  my  walks  home  late  at  night,  or  as  I  lay  in  my  bed, 

they  came  upon  me. 

14  I  too  had  been  struck  from  the  float  forever  held  in 

solution  ; 
I  too  had  receiv'd  identity  by  my  Body  ; 


CROSSING  BEOOKLYN  FEEBY.  195 

That  I  was,  I  knew  was  of  my  body — and  what  I  should 
be,  I  knew  I  should  be  of  my  body. 


15  It  is  not  upon  you  alone  the  dark  patches  fall, 
The  dark  threw  patches  down  upon  me  also  ; 

The  best  I  had  done  seem'd  to  me  blank  and  suspicious ; 
My  great  thoughts,  as  I  supposed  them,  were  they  not 

in  reality  meagre?  would  not  people  laugh  at 

me? 

16  It  is  not  you  alone  who  know  what  it  is  to  be  evil ; 
I  am  he  who  knew  what  it  was  to  be  evil ; 

I  too  knitted  the  old  knot  of  contrariety, 
Blabb'd,  blush'd,  resented,  lied,  stole,  grudg'd, 
Had  guile,  anger,  lust,  hot  wishes  I  dared  not  speak, 
Was  wayward,  vain,   greedy,    shallow,   sly,   cowardly, 

malignant ; 

The  wolf,  the  snake,  the  hog,  not  wanting  in  me, 
The  cheating  look,  the  frivolous  word,  the  adulterous 

wish,  not  wanting, 
Refusals,  hates,  postponements,  meanness,  laziness,  none 

of  these  wanting. 

8 

17  But  I  was  Manhattanese,  friendly  and  proud ! 

I  was  call'd  by  my  nighest  name  by  clear  loud  voices 

of  young  men  as  they  saw  me  approaching  or 

passing, 
Felt  their  arms  on  my  neck  as  I  stood,  or  the  negligent 

leaning  of  their  flesh  against  me  as  I  sat, 
Saw  many  I  loved  in  the  street,  or  ferry-boat,  or  public 

assembly,  yet  never  told  them  a  word, 
Lived  the  same  life  with  the  rest,  the  same  old  laughing, 

gnawing,  sleeping, 
Play'd  the  part  that  still  looks  back  on  the  actor  or 

actress, 
The  same  old  role,  the  role  that  is  what  we  make  it,  as 

great  as  we  like, 
Or  as  small  as  we  like,  or  both  great  and  small 


196  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


18  Closer  yet  I  approach  you  ; 

What  thought  you  have  of  me,  I  had  as  much  of  you 

— I  laid  in  my  stores  in  advance  ; 
I  considered  long  and  seriously  of  you  before  you  were 

born. 

19  Who  was  to  know  what  should  come  home  to  me  ? 
Who  knows  but  I  am  enjoying  this  ? 

Who  knows  but  I  am  as  good  as  looking  at  you  now, 
for  all  you  cannot  see  me  ? 

20  It  is  not  you  alone,  nor  I  alone  ; 

Not  a  few  races,  nor  a  few  generations,  nor  a  few  cen 
turies  ; 

It  is  that  each  came,  or  conies,  or  shall  come,  from  its 
due  emission, 

From  the  general  centre  of  all,  and  forming  a  part 
of  all  : 

Everything  indicates— the  smallest  does,  and  the  largest 
does ; 

A  necessary  film  envelopes  all,  and  envelops  the  Soul 
for  a  proper  time. 

10 

21  Now  I  am   curious  what   sight   can  ever  be  more 

stately  and   admirable   to   me  than  my  mast- 

hemm'd  Manhattan, 
My  river  and  sun-set,  and  my  scallop-edg'd  waves  of 

flood-tide, 
The  sea-gulls  oscillating  their  bodies,  the  hay-boat  in 

the  twilight,  and  the  belated  lighter  ; 
Curious  what  Gods  can  exceed  these  that  clasp  me  by 

the  hand,  and  with  voices  I  love  call  rne  promptly 

and  loudly  by  my  nighest  name  as  I  approach  ; 
Curious  what  is  more  subtle  than  this  which  ties  me  to 

the  woman  or  man  that  looks  in  my  face, 
Which  fuses  me  into  you  now,  and  pours  my  meaning 

into  you. 

22  We  understand,  then,  do  we  not  ? 


CROSSING  BROOKLYN  FERRY.  197 

What  I  promis'd  without  mentioning  it,  have  you  not 

accepted  ? 
What  the  study  could  not  teach — what  the  preaching 

could  not  accomplish,  is  accomplish'd,  is  it  not  ? 
What  the  push  of  reading  could  not  start,  is  started  by 

me  personally,  is  it  not  ? 

11 

53  Flow  on,  river !  flow  with  the  flood-tide,  and  ebb  with 
the  ebb-tide ! 

Frolic  on,  crested  and  scallop-edg'd  waves ! 

Gorgeous  clouds  of  the  sun-set !  drench  with  your 
splendor  me,  or  the  men  and  women  generations 
after  me  ; 

Cross  from  shore  to  shore,  countless  crowds  of  passen 
gers! 

Stand  up,  tall  masts  of  Mannahatta ! — stand  up,  beau 
tiful  hills  of  Brooklyn ! 

Throb,  baffled  and  curious  brain!  throw  out  questions 
and  answers ! 

Suspend  here  and  everywhere,  eternal  float  of  solution  ! 

Gaze,  loving  and  thirsting  eyes,  in  the  house,  or  street, 
or  public  assembly! 

Sound  out,  voices  of  young  men  !  loudly  and  musically 
call  me  by  my  nighest  name ! 

Live,  old  life !  play  the  part  that  looks  back  on  the 
actor  or  actress ! 

Play  the  old  role,  the  role  that  is  great  or  small,  ac 
cording  as  one  makes  it ! 

Consider,  you  who  peruse  me,  whether  I  may  not  in 
unknown  ways  be  looking  upon  you  ; 

Be  firm,  rail  over  the  river,  to  support  those  who  lean 
idly,  yet  haste  with  the  hasting  current ; 

Fly  on,  sea-birds !  fly  sideways,  or  wheel  in  large  cir 
cles  high  in  the  air  ; 

Receive  the  summer  sky,  you  water !  and  faithfully  hold 
it,  till  all  downcast  eyes  have  time  to  take  it 
from  you  ; 

Diverge,  fine  spokes  of  light,  from  the  shape  of  my 
head,  or  any  one's  head,  in  the  sun-lit  water  ; 


198  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

Come  on,  ships  from  the  lower  bay !  pass  up  or  down, 

white-sail'd  schooners,  sloops,  lighters ! 
Flaunt  away,  flags  of  all  nations !  be  duly  lower'd  at 

sunset  ; 
Burn  high  your  fires,  foundry  chimneys !    cast  black 

shadows  at  nightfall !  cast  red  and  yellow  light 

over  the  tops  of  the  houses  ; 

Appearances,  now  or  henceforth,  indicate  what  you  are ; 
You  necessary  film,  continue  to  envelop  the  soul ; 
About  my  body  for  me,  and  your  body  for  you,  be  hung 

our  divinest  aromas  ; 
Thrive,  cities!   bring   your  freight,  bring  your  shows, 

ample  and  sufficient  rivers  ; 
Expand,  being  than  which  none  else  is  perhaps  more 

spiritual  ; 
Keep  your  places,  objects  than  which  none  else  is  more 

lasting. 

12 

24  We  descend  upon  you  and  all  things  — we  arrest  you 

all; 

"We  realize  the  soul  only  by  you,  you  faithful  solids 
and  fluids  ; 

Through  you  color,  form,  location,  sublimity,  ideality  ; 

Through  you  every  proof,  comparison,  and  all  the  sug 
gestions  and  determinations  of  ourselves. 

25  You  have  waited,  you  always  wait,  you  dumb,  beau 

tiful  ministers !  you  novices ! 
We  receive  you  with  free  sense  at  last,  and  are  insatiate 

henceforward ; 
Not  you  any  more  shall  be  able  to  foil  us,  or  withhold 

yourselves  from  us ; 
We  use  you,  and  do  not  cast  you  aside — we  plant  you 

permanently  within  us  ; 
We  fathom  you  not — we  love  you — there  is  perfection 

in  you  also  ; 

You  furnish  your  parts  toward  eternity  ; 
Great  or  small,  you  furnish  your  parts  toward  the  soul. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  199 

WITH  ANTECEDENTS. 

1 

1  WITH  antecedents ; 

With  my  fathers  and  mothers,  and  the  accumulations 

of  past  ages  ; 
With  all  which,  had  it  not  been,  I  would  not  now  be 

here,  as  I  am  : 

With  Egypt,  India,  Phenicia,  Greece  and  Home  ; 
With  the  Kelt,  the   Scandinavian,  the  Alb,  and  the 

Saxon  ; 
With  antique  maritime  ventures, — with  laws,  artizan- 

ship,  wars  and  journeys  ; 
With  the  poet,  the  skald,  the  saga,  the  myth,  and  the 

oracle  ; 
With  the  sale  of  slaves — with   enthusiasts — with  the 

troubadour,  the  crusader,  and  the  monk  ; 
With  those  old  continents  whence  we  have  come  to  this 

new  continent ; 

With  the  fading  kingdoms  and  kings  over  there  ; 
With  the  fading  religions  and  priests  ; 
With  the  small  shores  we  look  back  to  from  our  own 

large  and  present  shores  ; 
With  countless  years  drawing  themselves  onward,  and 

arrived  at  these  years ; 
You  and  Me  arrived — America  arrived,  and  making 

this  year  ; 
This  year !  sending  itself  ahead  countless  years  to  come. 

2 

2  O  but  it  is  not  the  years — it  is  I — it  is  You  ; 
We  touch  all  laws,  and  tally  all  antecedents  ; 

We  are  the  skald,  the  oracle,  the  monk,  and  the  knight 

— we  easily  include  them,  and  more  ; 
We  stand  amid  time,  beginningless  and  endless — we 

stand  amid  evil  and  good  ; 
All  swings  around  us — there  is  as  much  darkness  as 

light ; 
The  very  sun  swings  itself  and  its  system  of  planets 

around  us ; 
Its  sun,  and  its  again,  all  awing  around  us. 


200  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

3  As  for  me,  (torn,  stormy,  even  as  I,  amid  these  vehe 

ment  days,) 

I  have  the  idea  of  all,  and  am  all,  and  believe  in  all ; 
I  believe  materialism  is  true,  and  spiritualism  is  true — 

I  reject  no  part. 

4  Have  I  forgotten  any  part? 

Come  to  me,  whoever  and  whatever,  till  I  give  you 
recognition. 

6  I  respect  Assyria,  China,  Teutonia,  and  the  Hebrews  ; 

I  adopt  each  theory,  myth,  god.  and  demi-god  ; 

I  see  that  the  old  accounts,  bibles,  genealogies,  are  true, 
without  exception ; 

I  assert  that  all  past  days  were  what  they  should  have 
been  ; 

And  that  they  could  no-how  have  been  better  than  they 
were, 

And  that  to-day  is  what  it  should  be — and  that  Amer 
ica  is, 

And  that  to-day  and  America  could  no-how  be  better 
than  they  are. 


6  In  the  name  of  These  States,  and  in  your  and  my 

name,  the  Past, 

And  in  the  name  of  These  States,  and  in  your  and  my 
name,  the  Present  time. 

7  I  know  that  the  past  was  great,  and  the  future  will  be 

great, 
And  I  know  that  both  curiously  conjoint  in  the  present 

time, 
(For  the  sake  of  him  I  typify — for  the  common  average 

man's  sake — your  sake,  if  you  are  he  ;) 
And  that  where- 1  am,  or  you  are,  this  present  day,  there 

is  the  centre  of  all  days,  all  races, 
And  there  is  the  meaning,  to  us,  of  all  that  has  ever 

come  of  races  and  days,  or  ever  will  come. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


THE  ANSWERER. 


Now  LIST  TO  MY  MORNING'S  ROMANZA. 


1  Now  list  to  my  morning's  romanza — I  tell  the  signs 

of  the  Answerer  ; 

To  the  cities  and  farms  I  sing,  as  they  spread  in  the 
sunshine  before  me. 

2  A  young  man  comes  to  me  bearing  a  message  from 

his  brother ; 
How  shall  the  young  man  know  the  whether  and  when 

of  his  brother? 
Tell  him  to  send  me  the  signs. 

3  And  I  stand  before  the  young  man  face  to  face,  and 

take  his  right  hand  in  my  left  hand,  and  his  left 
hand  in  my  right  hand, 

And  I  answer  for  his  brother,  and  for  men,  and  I  an 
swer  for  him  that  answers  for  all,  and  send  these 
signs. 


4  Him  all  wait  for — him  all  yield  up  to — his  word  is 
decisive  and  final, 

Him  they  accept,  in  him  lave,  in  him  perceive  them 
selves,  as  amid  light, 

Him  they  immerse,  and  he  immerses  them. 


202  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

5  Beautiful  women,  the  haughtiest  nations,  laws,  the 

landscape,  people,  animals, 
The  profound  earth  and  its  attributes,  and  the  unquiet 

ocean,  (so  tell  I  my  morning's  romanza  ;) 
All  enjoyments  and  properties,  and  money,  and  what 
ever  money  will  buy, 
The  best  farms — others  toiling  and  planting,  and  he 

unavoidably  reaps, 
The  noblest  and  costliest  cities — others  grading  and 

building,  and  he  domiciles  there  ; 
Nothing  for  any  one,  but  what  is  for  him — near  and  far 

are  for  him,  the  ships  in  the  offing, 
The  perpetual  shows  and  marches  on  land,  are  for  him, 

if  they  are  for  any  body. 

6  He  puts  things  in  their  attitudes  ; 

He  puts  to-day  out  of  himself,  with  plasticity  and  love  ; 

He  places  his  own  city,  times,  reminiscences,  parents, 
brothers  and  sisters,  associations,  employment, 
politics,  so  that  the  rest  never  shame  them  after 
ward,  nor  assume  to  command  them. 

7  He  is  the  answerer ; 

What  can  be  answer 'd  he  answers — and  what  cannot  be 
answer'd,  he  shows  how  it  cannot  be  answer'd. 

3 

8  A  man  is  a  summons  and  challenge  ; 

(It  is  vain  to  skulk — Do  you  hear  that  mocking  and 
laughter?  Do  you  hear  the  ironical  echoes?) 

9  Books,  friendships,  philosophers,  priests,  action,  plea 

sure,  pride,  beat  up  and  down,  seeking  to  give 
satisfaction  ; 

He  indicates  the  satisfaction,  and  indicates  them  that 
beat  up  and  down  also. 

10  Whichever  the  sex,  whatever  the  season  or  place,  he 

may  go  freshly  and  gently  and  safely,  by  day  or 
by  night ; 


THE  ANSWEEEB.  203 

He  has  the  pass-key  of  hearts — to  him  the  response  of 
the  prying  of  hands  on  the  knobs. 

11  His  welcome  is  universal — the  flow  of  beauty  is  not 
more  welcome  or  universal  than  he  is  ; 

The  person  he  favors  by  day,  or  sleeps  with  at  night,  is 
blessed. 


12  Every  existence  has  its  idiom — everything  has  an 

idiom  and  tongue  ; 
He  resolves  all  tongues  into  his  own,  and  bestows  it 

upon  men,  and  any  man  translates,  and  any  man 

translates  himself  also  ; 
One  part  does  not  counteract  another  part — he  is  the 

joiner — he  sees  how  they  join. 

13  H!e  says  indifferently  and  alike,  How  are  you,  friend  ? 

to  the  President  at  his  levee, 
And  he  says,  Good-day,  my  brother  !  to  Cudge  that  hoes 

in  the  sugar-field, 
And  both  understand  him,  and  know  that  his  speech  is 

right. 

14  He  walks  with  perfect  ease  in  the  Capitol, 

He  walks  among  the  Congress,  and  one  Representative 
says  to  another,  Here  is  our  equal,  appearing  and 
new. 

15  Then  the  mechanics  take  him  for  a  mechanic, 

And  the  soldiers  suppose  him  to  be  a  soldier,  and  the 
sailors  that  he  has  follow'd  the  sea, 

And  the  authors  take  him  for  an  author,  and  the  artists 
for  an  artist, 

And  the  laborers  perceive  he  could  labor  with  them  and 
love  them  ; 

No  matter  what  the  work  is,  that  he  is  the  one  to  fol 
low  it,  or  has  follow'd  it, 

No  matter  what  the  nation,  that  he  might  find  his 
brothers  and  sisters  there. 


204  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

16  The  English  believe  he  comes  of  their  English  stock, 
A  Jew  to  the  Jew  he  seems — a  Buss  to  the  Buss — usual 

and  near,  removed  from  none. 

17  Whoever  he  looks  at  in  the  traveler's  coffee-house 

claims  him, 
The  Italian  or  Frenchman  is  sure,  and  the  German  is 

sure,  and  the  Spaniard  is  sure,  and  the  island 

Cuban  is  sure ; 
The  engineer,  the  deck-hand  on  the  great  lakes,  or  on 

the  Mississippi,  or  St.  Lawrence,  or  Sacramento, 

or  Hudson,  or  Paumanok  Sound,  claims  him. 

18  The  gentleman  of  perfect  blood  acknowledges  his 

perfect  blood ; 

The  insulter,  the  prostitute,  the  angry  person,  the 
beggar,  see  themselves  in  the  ways  of  him — he 
strangely  transmutes  them, 

They  are  not  vile  any  more — they  hardly  know  them 
selves,  they  are  so  grown. 


THE    INDICATIONS. 

1  THE  indications,  and  tally  of  time  ; 
Perfect  sanity  shows  the  master  among  philosophs  ; 
Time,  always  without  flaw,  indicates  itself  in  parts  ; 
What  always  indicates  the  poet,  is  the  crowd  of  the 

pleasant  company  of  singers,  and  their  words  ; 
The  words  of  the  singers  are  the  hours  or  minutes  of 
.  the  light  or  dark — but  the  words  of  the  maker 

of  poems  are  the  general  light  and  dark  ; 
The  maker  of  poems  settles  justice,  reality,  immor- 

tality, 
His  insight  and  power  encircle  things  and  the  human 

race, 
He  is  the  glory  and  extract  thus  far,  of  things,  and  of 

the  human  race. 


THE  ANSWERER.  205 

2  The  singers  do  not  beget — only  the  POET  begets ; 
The  singers  are  welcom'd,  understood,  appear   often 

enough — but  rare  has  the  day  been,  likewise  the 
spot,  of  the  birth  of  the  maker  of  poems,  the 
Answerer, 

(Not  every  century,  or  every  five  centuries,  has  con- 
tain'd  such  a  day,  for  all  its  names.) 

3  The  singers  of  successive  hours  of  centuries  may  have 

ostensible  names,  but  the  name  of  each  of  them 
is  one  of  the  singers, 

The  name  of  each  is,  eye-singer,  ear-singer,  head- 
singer,  sweet-singer,  echo-singer,  parlor-singer, 
love-singer,  or  something  else. 

4  All  this  time,  and  at  all  times,  wait  the  words  of  true 

poems ; 

The  words  of  true  poems  do  not  merely  please, 
The  true  poets  are  not  followers  of  beauty,  but  the 

august  masters  of  beauty  ; 
The  greatness  of  sons  is  the  exuding  of  the  greatness 

of  mothers  and  fathers, 
The  words  of  poems  are  the  tuft  and  final  applause -of 

science. 

5  Divine  instinct,  breadth  of  vision,  the  law  of  reason, 

health,  rudeness  of  body,  withdrawnness, 
Gayety,  sun-tan,  air-sweetness — such  are  some  of  the 
words  of  poems. 

6  The  sailor  and  traveler  underlie  the  maker  of  poems, 

the  answerer  ; 

The  builder,  geometer,  chemist,  anatomist,  phrenolo 
gist,  artist — all  these  underlie  the  maker  of 
poems,  the  answerer. 

7  The  words  of  the  true  poems  give  you  more  than 

poems, 

They  give  you  to  form  for  yourself,  poems,  religions, 
politics,  war,  peace,  behavior,  histories,  essays, 
romances,  and  everything  else, 


206  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

They  balance   ranks,   colors,   races,   creeds,   and    the 

sexes, 

They  do  not  seek  beauty — they  are  sought, 
Forever  touching  them,  or  close  upon  them,  follows 

beauty,  longing,  fain,  love-sick. 

8  They  prepare  for  death — yet  are  they  not  the  finish, 
but  rather  the  outset, 

They  bring  none  to  his  or  her  terminus,  or  to  be  con 
tent  and  full ; 

Whom  they  take,  they  take  into  space,  to  behold  the 
birth  of  stars,  to  learn  one  of  the  meanings, 

To  launch  off  with  absolute  faith — to  sweep  through  the 
ceaseless  rings,  and  never  be  quiet  again. 


POETS  TO  COME. 

1  POETS  to  come !  orators,  singers,  musicians  to  come ! 
Not  to-day  is  to  justify  me,  and  answer  what  I  am 

for ; 
But  you,  a  new  brood,  native,  athletic,   continental, 

greater  than  before  known, 
Arouse!  Arouse — for  you  must  justify  me — you  must 

answer. 

2  I  myself  but  write  one  or  two  indicative  words  for  the 

future, 

I  but  advance  a  moment,  only  to  wheel  and  hurry  back 
in  the  darkness. 

3  I  am  a  man  who,  sauntering  along,  without  fully  stop 

ping,  turns  a  casual  look  upon  you,  and  then 

averts  his  face, 

Leaving  it  to  you  to  prove  and  define  it, 
Expecting  the  main  things  from  you. 


THE  ANSWEKEE.  207 


I  HEAR  AMERICA  SINGING. 

I  HEAR  America  singing,  the  varied  carols  I  hear  ; 
Those  of  mechanics — each  one  singing  his,  as  it  should 

be,  blithe  and  strong  ; 
The  carpenter  singing  his,  as  he  measures  his  plank  or 

beam, 
The  mason  singing  his,  as  he  makes  ready  for  work,  or 

leaves  off  work ; 
The  boatman  singing  what  belongs  to  him  in  his  boat — 

the  deck-hand  singing  on  the  steamboat  deck ; 
The  shoemaker  singing  as  he  sits  on  his  bench — the 

hatter  singing  as  he  stands  ; 
The  wood-cutter's  song — the  ploughboy's,  on  his  way  in 

the  morning,  or  at  the  noon  intermission,  or  at 

sundown  ; 
The  delicious  singing  of  the  mother — or  of  the  young 

wife  at  work — or  of  the  girl  sewing  or  washing — 

Each  singing  what  belongs  to  her,  and  to  none 

else  ; 
The  day  what  belongs  to  the  day — At  night,  the  party 

of  young  fellows,  robust,  friendly, 
Singing,   with  open   mouths,   their  strong  melodious 

songs. 


208  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 


THE  CITY  DEAD-HOUSE. 

BY  the  City  De  ad-House,  by  the  gate, 

As  idly  sauntering,  wending  my  way  from  the  clangor, 

I  curious  pause — for  lo  !  an  outcast  form,  a  poor  dead 
prostitute  brought ; 

Her  corpse  they  deposit  unclaim'd — it  lies  on  the  damp 
brick  pavement ; 

The  divine  woman,  her  body — I  see  the  Body — I  look 
on  it  alone, 

That  house  once  full  of  passion  and  beauty — all  else  I 
notice  not  ; 

Nor  stillness  so  cold,  nor  running  water  from  faucet, 
nor  odors  morbific  impress  me  ; 

But  the  house  alone — that  wondrous  house — that  deli 
cate  fair  house  —  that  ruin  ! 

That  immortal  house,  more  than  all  the  rows  of  dwell 
ings  ever  built ! 

Or  white-domed  Capitol  itself,  with  majestic  figure  sur 
mounted — or  all  the  old  high-spired  cathedrals  ; 

That  little  house  alone,  more  than  them  all— poor,  des 
perate  house ! 

Fair,  fearful  wreck  !  tenement  of  a  Soul !  itself  a  Soul ! 

Unclaim'd,  avoided  house !  take  one  breath  from  my 
tremulous  lips  ; 

Take  one  tear,  dropt  aside  as  I  go,  for  thought  of  you, 

Dead  house  of  love !  house  of  madness  and  sin,  crum 
bled!  crush'd! 

House  of  life — erewhile  talking  and  laughing — but  ah, 
poor  house  !  dead,  even  then  ; 

Months,  years,  an  echoing,  garnish'd  house — but  dead, 
dead,  dead. 


A  FARM  PICTURE. 

THROUGH  the  ample  open  door  of  the  peaceful  country 

barn, 

A  sun-lit  pasture  field,  with  cattle  and  horses  feeding  ; 
And  haze,  and  vista,  and  the  far  horizon,  fading  away. 


LEAVES  OF  GSASS. 


CAROL  OF  OCCUPATIONS. 


1  COME  closer  to  me  ; 

Push  close,  my  lovers,  and  take  the  best  I  possess ; 
Yield  closer  and  closer,  and  give  me  the  best  you  pos 
sess. 

2  This  is  unfinish'd  business  with  me — How  is  it  with 

you? 

(I  was  chill'd  with  the  cold  types,  cylinder,  wet  paper 
between  us.) 

3  Male  and  Female ! 

I  pass  so  poorly  with  paper  and  types,  I  must  pass  with 
the  contact  of  bodies  and  souls. 

4  American  masses ! 

I  do  not  thank  you  for  liking  me  as  I  am,  and  liking 
the  touch  of  me — 1  know  that  it  is  good  for  you 
to  do  so. 


6  This  is  the  carol  of  occupations  ; 

In  the  labor  of  engines  and  trades,  and  the  labor  of 

fields,  I  find  the  developments, 
And  find  the  eternal  meanings. 


210  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

6  Workmen  and  Workwomen ! 

Were  all  educations,  practical  and  ornamental,  well  dis- 
play'd  out  of  me,  what  would  it  amount  to  ? 

Were  I  as  the  head  teacher,  charitable  proprietor,  wise 
statesman,  what  would  it  amount  to  ? 

Were  I  to  you  as  the  boss  employing  and  paying  you, 
would  that  satisfy  you? 

7  The  learn'd,  virtuous,  benevolent,  and  the  usual  terms; 
A  man  like  me,  and  never  the  usual  terms. 

8  Neither  a  servant  nor  a  master  am  I ; 

I  take  no  sooner  a  large  price  than  a  small  price — I  will 
have  my  own,  whoever  enjoys  me  ; 

I  will  be  even  with  you,  and  you  shall  be  even  with  me. 

8  If  you  stand  at  work  in  a  shop,  I  stand  as  nigh  as  the 

nighest  in  the  same  shop  ; 
If  you  bestow  gifts  on  your  brother  or  dearest  friend,  I 

demand  as  good  as  your  brother  or  dearest  friend; 
If  your  lover,  husband,  wife,  is  welcome  by  day  or  night, 

I  must  be  personally  as  welcome  ; 
If  you  become  degraded,  criminal,  ill,  then  I  become  so 

for  your  sake  ; 
If  you  remember  your  foolish  and  outlaw'd  deeds,  do 

you  think  I  cannot  remember  my  own  foolish 

and  outlaw'd  deeds  ? 
If  you  carouse  at  the  table,  I  carouse  at  the  opposite 

side  of  the  table  ; 
If  you  meet  some  stranger  in  the  streets,  and  love  him 

or  her — why  I  often  meet  strangers  in  the  street, 

and  love  them. 

10  Why,  what  have  you  thought  of  yourself  ? 
Is  it  you  then  that  thought  yourself  less  ? 
Is  it  you  that  thought  the  President  greater  than  you  ? 
Or  the  rich  better  off  than  you  ?  or  the  educated  wiser 
than  you  ? 

II  Because  you  are  greasy  or  pimpled,  or  that  you  were 

once  drunk,  or  a  thief, 


CAROL  OF  OCCUPATIONS.  211 

Or  diseas'd,  or  rheumatic,  or  a  prostitute — or  are  so  now; 
Or  from   frivolity   or   impotence,    or  that  you  are  no 

scholar,  and  never  saw  your  name  in  print, 
Do  you  give  in  that  you  are  any  less  immortal  ? 

3 

12  Souls  of  men  and  women  !  it  is  not  you  I  call  unseen, 

unheard,  untouchable  and  untouching  ; 
It  is  not  you  I  go  argue  pro  and  con  about,  and  to 

settle  whether  you  are  alive  or  no  ; 
I  own  publicly  who  you  are,  if  nobody  else  owns. 

13  Grown,   half-grown,  and  babe,  of  this  country  and 

every  country,  in-doors  and  out-doors,  one  just 
as  much  as  the  other,  I  see, 
And  all  else  behind  or  through  them. 

14  The   wife — and   she  is  not   one  jot  less   than  .the 

husband ; 

The  daughter — and  she  is  just  as  good  as  the  son  ; 
The  mother — and  she  is  every  bit   as  much   as  the 

father. 

15  Offspring  of  ignorant  and  poor,  boys  apprenticed  to 

trades, 

Young  fellows  working  on  farms,  and  old  fellows  work 
ing  on  farms, 

Sailor-men,  merchant-men,  coasters,  immigrants, 

All  these  I  see — but  nigher  and  farther  the  same  I 
see  ; 

None  shall  escape  me,  and  none  shall  wish  to  escape 
me. 

16  I  bring  what  you  much  need,  yet  always  have, 
Not  money,  amours,  dress,  eating,  but  as  good  ; 

I  send  no  agent  or  medium,  offer  no  representative  of 
value,  but  offer  the  value  itself. 

17  There  is  something  that   comes  home  to  one  now 

and  perpetually  ; 


212  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

It  is  not  what  is  printed,  preach'd,  discussed — it  eludes 

discussion  and  print ; 

It  is  not  to  be  put  in  a  book — it  is  not  in  this  book  ; 
It  is  for  you,  whoever  you  are — it  is  no  farther  from 

you  than  your  hearing  and  sight  are  from  you  ; 
Ifc  is  hinted  by  nearest,  commonest,  readiest — it  is  ever 

provoked  by  them. 

18  You  may  read  in  many  languages,  yet  read  nothing 

about  it ; 

You  may  read  the  President's  Message,  and  read  noth 
ing  about  it  there  ; 

Nothing  in  the  reports  from  the  State  department  or 
Treasury  department,  or  in  the  daily  papers  or 
the  weekly  papers, 

Or  in  the  census  or  revenue  returns,  prices  current,  or 
any  accounts  of  stock. 

4 

19  The  sun  and  stars  that  float  in  the  open  air  ; 

The   apple-shaped  earth,  and  we  upon  it — surely  the 

drift  of  them  is  something  grand  ! 
I  do  not  know  what  it  is,  except  that  it  is  grand,  and 

that  it  is  happiness, 
And  that  the   enclosing  purport  of   us  here  is  not  a 

speculation,  or  bon-mot,  or  reconnoissance, 
And  that  it  is  not  something  which  by  luck  may  turn 

out  well  for  us,  and  without  luck  must  be  a  failure 

for  us, 
And  not  something  which  may  yet  be  retracted  in  a 

certain  contingency. 

20  The  light  and  shade,  the  curious  sense  of  body  and 

identity,  the  greed  that  with  perfect  complais 
ance  devours  all  things,  the  endless  pride  and 
out-stretching  of  man,  unspeakable  joys  and 
sorrows, 

The  wonder  every  one  sees  in  every  one  else  he  sees, 
and  the  wonders  that  fill  each  minute  of  time 
forever, 


CAROL  OF  OCCUPATIONS.  213 

What  have  you  reckon'd  them  for,  camerado  ? 

Have  you  reckon'd  them  for  a  trade,  or  farm-work  ?  or 
for  the  profits  of  a  store  ? 

Or  to  achieve  yourself  a  position  ?  or  to  fill  a  gentle 
man's  leisure,  or  a  lady's  leisure? 

21  Have  you  reckon'd  the  landscape  took  substance  and 

form  that  it  might  be  painted  in  a  picture  ? 
Or  men  and  women  that  they  might  be  written  of,  and 

songs  sung  ? 
Or  the  attraction  of  gravity,  and  the  great  laws  and 

harmonious  combinations,  and  the  fluids  of  the 

air,  as  subjects  for  the  savans  ? 
Or  the  brown  land   and   the  blue  sea  for  maps  and 

charts  ? 
Or  the   stars  to  be   put  in  constellations  and  named 

fancy  names  ? 
Or  that  the  growth  of  seeds  is  for  agricultural  tables, 

or  agriculture  itself? 

22  Old  institutions — these  arts,  libraries,  legends,  col 

lections,  and  the  practice  handed  along  in  man 
ufactures — win  we  rate  them  so  high  ? 

Will  we  rate  our  cash  and  business  high  ? — I  have  no 
objection  ; 

I  rate  them  as  high  as  the  highest — then  a  child  born 
of  a  woman  and  man  I  rate  beyond  all  rate. 

23  We  thought  our  Union  grand,  and  our  Constitution 

grand  ; 

I  do  not  say  they  are  not  grand  and  good,  for  they  are  ; 
I  am  this  day  just  as  much  in  love  with  them  as  you  ; 
Then  I  am  in  love  with  you,  and  with  all  my  fellows 

upon  the  earth. 

24  We  consider  bibles  and  religions  divine — I  do  not  say 

they  are  not  divine  ; 
I  say  they  have  all  grown  out  of  you,  and  may  grow  out 

of  you  still ; 
It  is  not  they  who  give  the  life — it  is  you  who  give  the 

lif  e  ; 


214  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Leaves  are  not  more  slied  from  the  trees,  or  trees  from 
the  earth,  than  they  are  shed  out  of  you. 


5  When  the  psalm  sings  instead  of  the  singer  ; 
When  the  script  preaches,  instead  of  the  preacher ; 
When  the  pulpit  descends  and  goes,  instead  of  the 

carver  that  carved  the  supporting  desk  ; 
When  I  can  touch  the  body  of  books,  by  night  or  by 

day,  and  when  they  touch  my  body  back  again  ; 
When  a  university  course  convinces,  like  a  slumbering 

woman  and  child  convince  ; 
When  the   minted  gold  in  the  vault  smiles  like  the 

night-watchman's  daughter ; 
When  warrantee  deeds  loafe  in  chairs  opposite,  and  are 

my  friendly  companions  ; 
I  intend  to  reach  them  my  hand,  and  make  as  much  of 

them  as  I  do  of  men  and  women  like  you. 

26  The  sum  of  all  known  reverence  I  add  up  in  you, 

whoever  you  are  ; 
The  President  is  there  in  the  White  House  for  you — it 

is  not  you  who  are  here  for  him  ; 
The  Secretaries  act  in  their  bureaus  for  you — not  you 

here  for  them  ; 

The  Congress  convenes  every  Twelfth-month  for  you  ; 
Laws,  courts,  the  forming  of  States,  the  charters  of 

cities,  the  going  and  coming  of  commerce  and 

mails,  are  all  for  you, 

27  List  close,  my  scholars  dear ! 

All  doctrines,  all  politics  and  civilization,  exurge  from 

you; 
All  sculpture  and  monuments,  and  anything  inscribed 

anywhere,  are  tallied  in  you  ; 
The  gist  of  histories  and  statistics  as  far  back  as  the 

records  reach,  is  in  you  this  hour,  and  myths  and 

tales  the  same  ; 
If  you  were  not  breathing  and  walking  here,  where 

would  they  all  be  ? 


CAROL  or  OCCUPATIONS.  215 

The  most  renown'd  poems  would  be  ashes,  orations  and 
plays  would  be  vacuums. 

28  All  architecture  is  what  you  do  to  it  when  you  look 

upon  it ; 

(Did  you  think  it  was  in  the  white  or  gray  stone  ?  or 
the  lines  of  the  arches  and  cornices  ?) 

29  All  music  is  what  awakes  from  you,  when  you  are 

reminded  by  the  instruments  ; 

It  is  not  the  violins  and  the  cornets— it  is  not  the  oboe 
nor  the  beating  drums,  nor  the  score  of  the 
baritone  singer  singing  his  sweet  romanza — nor 
that  of  the  men's  chorus,  nor  that  of  the  women's 
chorus, 

It  is  nearer  and  farther  than  they. 


6 

30  "Will  the  whole  come  back  then  ? 

Can  each  see  signs  of  the  best  by  a  look  in  the  looking- 
glass  ?  is  there  nothing  greater  or  more  ? 

Does  all  sit  there  with  you,  with  the  mystic,  unseen 
Soul? 

31  Strange  and  hard  that  paradox  true  I  give  ; 
Objects  gross  and  the  unseen  Soul  are  one. 

32  House-building,  measuring,  sawing  the  boards  ; 
Blacksmithing,   glass-blowing,  nail-making,  coopering, 

tin-roofing,  shingle-dressing, 

Ship-joining,  dock-building,  fish-curing,  ferrying,  flag 
ging  of  side-walks  by  flaggers, 

The  pump,  the  pile-driver,  the  great  derrick,  the  coal- 
kiln  and  brick-kiln, 

Coal-mines,  and  all  that  is  down  there, — the  lamps  in 
the  darkness,  echoes,  songs,  what  meditations, 
what  vast  native  thoughts  looking  through 
smutch'd  faces, 


,216  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

Iron-works,  forge-fires  in  the  mountains,  or  by  the 
river-banks — men  around  feeling  the  melt  with 
huge  crowbars — lumps  of  ore,  the  due  combining 
of  ore,  limestone,  coal — the  blast-furnace  and  the 
puddling-furnace,  the  loup-lump  at  the  bottom 
of  the  melt  at  last — the  rolling-mill,  the  stumpy 
bars  of  pig-iron,  the  strong,  clean-shaped  T-rail 
for  railroads  ; 

Oil-works,  silk-works,  white-lead-works,  the  sugar-house, 
steam-saws,  the  great  mills  and  factories  ; 

Stone-cutting,  shapely  trimmings  for  facades,  or  window 
or  door-lintels — the  mallet,  the  tooth-chisel,  the 
jib  to  protect  the  thumb, 

Oakum,  the  oakum-chisel,  the  caulking-iron — the  kettle 
of  boiling  vault-cement,  and  the  fire  under  the 
kettle, 

The  cotton-bale,  the  stevedore's  hook,  the  saw  and  buck 
of  the  sawyer,  the  mould  of  the  moulder,  the 
working-knife  of  the  butcher,  the  ice-saw,  and  all 
the  work  with  ice, 

The  implements  for  daguerreotyping — the  tools  of  the 
rigger,  grappler,  sail-maker,  block-maker, 

G-oods  of  gutta-percha,  papier-mache,  colors,  brushes, 
brush-making,  glazier's  implements, 

The  veneer  and  glue-pot,  the  confectioner's  ornaments, 
the  decanter  and  glasses,  the  shears  and  flat-iron, 

The  awl  and  knee-strap,  the  pint  measure  and  quart 
measure,  the  counter  and  stool,  the  writing-pen 
of  quill  or  metal — the  making  of  all  sorts  of 
edged  tools, 

The  brewery,  brewing,  the  malt,  the  vats,  every  thing 
that  is  done  by  brewers,  also  by  wine-makers, 
also  vinegar-makers, 

Leather-dressing,  coach-making,  boiler-making,  rope- 
twisting,  distilling,  sign -pain  ting,  lime-burning, 
cotton-picking  —  electro-plating,  electrotyping, 
stereotyping, 

Stave-machines,  planing-machines,  reaping-machines, 
ploughing-machines,  thrashing-machines,  steam 
wagons, 


CAROL  OF  OCCUPATIONS.  217 

The  cart  of  the  carman,  the  omnibus,  the  ponderous 

dray; 
Pyrotechny,  letting  off  color'd  fire -works  at  night,  fancy 

figures  and  jets  ; 
Beef  on  the  butcher's  stall,  the  slaughter-house  of  the 

butcher,  the  butcher  in  his  killing-clothes, 
The  pens  of  live  pork,  the  killing-hammer,  the  hog- 
hook,   the   scalder's    tub,    gutting,    the   cutter's 

cleaver,  the   packer's  maul,   and  the  plenteous 

winter-work  of  pork-packing  ; 
Flour-works,  grinding  of  wheat,  rye,  maize,  rice — the 

barrels  and  the  half   and  quarter  barrels,  the 

loaded  barges,  the  high  piles  on  wharves  and 

levees  ; 
The  men,  and  the   work   of    the   men,  on  railroads, 

coasters,  fish-boats,  canals  ;   , 
The  daily  routine  of  your  own  or  any  man's  life — the 

shop,  yard,  store,  or  factory  ; 
These  shows  all  near  you  by  day  and  night — workman ! 

whoever  you  are,  your  daily  life ! 
In  that  and  them  the  heft  of  the  heaviest — in  them  far 

more  than  you  estimated,  and  far  less  also  ; 
In  them  realities  for  you  and  me — in  them  poems  for 

you  and  me  ; 
In  them,  not  yourself — you  and  your  Soul  enclose  all 

things,  regardless  of  estimation ; 
In  them  the  development  go^d — in  them,  all  themes 

and  hints. 

83  I  do  not  anirm  what  you  see  beyond  is  futile — I  do 

not  advise  you  to  stop  ; 

I  do  not  say  leadings  you  thought  great  are  not  great ; 
But  I  say  that  none  lead  to  greater,  than  those  lead  to. 

7 

54  Will  you  seek  afar  off?  you  surely  come  back  at 

last, 
In  things  best  known  to  you,  finding  the  best,  or  as 

good  as  the  best, 
In  folks  nearest  to  you  finding  the  sweetest,  strongest, 

lovingest ; 
10 


218  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Happiness,  knowledge,  not  in  another  place,  but  this 

place — not  for  another  hour,  but  this  hour  ; 
Man  in  the  first  you  see  or  touch — always  in  friend, 

brother,  nighest  neighbor — Woman  in  mother, 

lover,  wife  ; 
The  popular  tastes  and  employments  taking  precedence 

in  poems  or  any  where, 
You  workwomen  and  workmen  of  These  States  having 

your  own  divine  and  strong  life, 
And  all  else  giving  place  to  men  and  women  like  you. 


THOUGHTS. 


OF  ownership— As  if  one  fit  to  own  things  couW  not  at 
pleasure  enter  upon  all,  and  incorporate  them 
into  himself  or  herself. 

2 

Of  waters,  forests,  hills  ; 

Of  the  earth  at  large,  whispering  through  medium  of 

me;  ^ 

Of  vista — Suppose  some  sight  in  arriere,  through  the 

formative  chaos,  presuming  the  growth,  fulness, 

life,  now  attain'd  on  the  journey  ; 
(But  I  see  the  road  continued,  and  the  journey  ever 

continued ;) 
— Of  what  was  once  lacking*  on  earth,  and  in  due  time 

has  become  supplied — And  of  what  will  yet  be 

supplied, 
Because  all  I  see  and  know,  I  believe  to  have  purport 

in  what  will  yet  be  supplied. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


THE    SLEEPERS. 


1  I  WANDER  all  night  in  my  vision, 

Stepping  with  light  feet,  swiftly  and  noiselessly  step 
ping  and  stopping, 

Bending  with  open  eyes  over  the  shut  eyes  of  sleepers, 

Wandering  and  confused,  lost  to  myself,  ill-assorted, 
contradictory, 

Pausing,  gazing,  bending,  and  stopping. 

2  How  solemn  they  look  there,  stretch' d  and  still ! 
How  quiet   they  breathe,  the  little  children  in  their 

cradles ! 

3  The  wretched  features  of  ennuyes,  the  white  features 

of  corpses,  the  livid  faces  of  drunkards,  the  sick- 
gray  faces  of  onanists, 

The  gash'd  bodies  on  battle-fields,  the  insane  in  their 
strong-door'd  rooms,  the  sacred  idiots,  the  new 
born  emerging  from  gates,  and  the  dying  emerg 
ing  from  gates, 

The  night  pervades  them  and  infolds  them. 

4  The  married  couple  sleep  calmly  in   their  bed — he 

with  his  palm  on  the  hip  of  the  wife,  and  she 
with  her  palm  on  the  hip  of  the  husband, 
The  sisters  sleep  lovingly  side  by  side  in  their  bed, 
The  men  sleep  lovingly  sjjle  by  side  in  theirs, 
And  the  mother  sleeps,  with  her  little  child  carefully 
wrapt. 


220  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

5  The  blind  sleep,  and  the  deaf  and  dumb  sleep, 

The  prisoner  sleeps  well  in  the  prison — the  run-away 

son  sleeps  ; 
The  murderer  that  is  to  be  hung  next  day — how  does 

he  sleep  ? 
And  the  murder'd  person — how  does  he  sleep  ? 

6  The  female  that  loves  unrequited  sleeps, 
And  the  male  that  loves  unrequited  sleeps, 

The  head  of  the  money-maker   that  plotted  all  day 


And  the  enraged  and  treacherous  dispositions — all,  all 
sleep. 


7  I  stand  in  the  dark  with  drooping  eyes  by  the  worst- 

suffering  and  the  most  restless, 
I  pass  my  hands  soothingly  to  and  fro  a  few  inches 

from  them, 
The  restless  sink  in  their  beds — they  fitfully  sleep. 

8  Now  I  pierce  the  darkness — new  beings  appear, 
The  earth  recedes  from  me  into  the  night, 

I  saw  that  it  was  beautiful,  and  I  see  that  what  is  not 
the  earth  is  beautiful. 

9  I  go  from  bedside  to  bedside — I  sleep  close  with  the 

other  sleepers,  each  in  turn, 

I  dream  in  my  dream  all  the  dreams  of  the  other  dream 
ers, 

And  I  become  the  other  dreamers. 


10  I  am  a  dance— Play  up,  there  !  the  fit  is  whirling  me 

fast! 

11  I  am  the  ever-laughing — if  is  new  moon  and  twi 

light, 


THE  SLEEPERS.  221 

I  see  the  hiding  of  douceurs — I  see  nimble  ghosts 

whichever  way  I  look, 
Cache,  and  cache  again,  deep  in  the  ground  and  sea, 

and  where  it  is  neither  ground  or  sea. 

12  Well  do  they  do  their  jobs,  those  journeymen  divine, 
Only  from  me  can  they  hide  nothing,  and  would  not  if 

they  could, 
I  reckon  I  am  their  boss,  and  they  make  me  a  pet 

besides, 
And  surround  me  and  lead  me,  and  run  ahead  when  I 

walk, 
To  lift  their  cunning  covers,  to  signify  me  with  stretch'd 

arms,  and  resume  the  way ; 
Onward  we  move !  a  gay  gang  of  blackguards !  with 

mirth-shouting  music,  and  wild-flapping  pennants 

of  joy ! 


13  I  am  the  actor,  the  actress,  the  voter,  the  politician ; 
The  emigrant  and  the  exile,  the  criminal  that  stood  in 

the  box, 
He  who  has  been  famous,  and  he  who  shall  be  famous 

after  to-day, 
The  stammerer,  the  well-form'd  person,  the  wasted  or 

feeble  person. 


14  I  am  she  who  adorn'd  herself  and  folded  her  hair 

expectantly, 
My  truant  lover  has  come,  and  it  is  dark. 

15  Double  yourself  and  receive  me,  darkness ! 
Keceive  me  and  my  lover  too — he  will  not  let  me  go 

without  him. 


16  I  roll  myself  upon  you,  as  upon  a  bed — I  resign  my 
self  to  the  dusk. 


222  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

6 

"  He  whom  I  call  answers  me,  and  takes  the  place  of 

my  lover, 
He  rises  with  me  silently  from  the  bed. 

18  Darkness !  you  are  gentler  than  my  lover — his  flesh 

was  sweaty  and  panting, 
I  feel  the  hot  moisture  yet  that  he  left  me. 

19  My  hands  are  spread  forth,  I  pass  them  in  all  direc 

tions, 

I  would  sound  up  the  shadowy  shore  to  which  you  are 
journeying. 

20  Be  careful,  darkness !  already,  what  was  it  touch'd 

me? 
I  thought  my  lover  had  gone,  else  darkness  and  he  are 

one, 
I  hear  the  heart-beat — I  follow,  I  fade  away. 


21  O  hot-cheek'd  and  blushing !  O  foolish  hectic ! 

0  for  pity's  sake,  no  one  must  see  me  now !  my  clothes 

were  stolen  while  I  was  abed, 
Now  I  am  thrust  forth,  where  shall  I  run  ? 

22  Pier  that  I  saw  dimly  last  night,  when  I  look'd  from 

the  windows ! 

Pier  out  from  the  main,  let  me  catch  myself  with  you, 
and  stay — I  will  not  chafe  you, 

1  feel  ashamed  to  go  naked  about  the  world. 

23  I  am  curious  to  know  where  my  feet  stand — and  what 

this  is  flooding  me,  childhood  or  manhood — and 
the  hunger  that  crosses  the  bridge  between. 

8 

24  The  cloth  laps  a  first  sweet  eating  and  drinking, 
Laps  life-swelling  yolks — laps  ear  of  rose-corn,  milky 

and  just  ripen'd ; 


THE  SLEEPERS.  223 

The  white  teeth  stay,  and  the  boss-tooth  advances  in 

darkness, 
And  liquor  is  spill'd  on  lips  and  bosoms  by  touching 

glasses,  and  the  best  liquor  afterward. 

9 

25  I  descend  my  western  course,  my  sinews  are  flaccid, 
Perfume  and  youth  course  through  me,  and  I  am  their 

wake. 

26  It  is  my  face  yellow  and  wrinkled,  instead  of  the  old 

woman's, 

I  sit  low  in  a  straw-bottom  chair,  and  carefully  darn 
my  grandson's  stockings. 

27  It  is  I  too,  the  sleepless  widow,  looking  out  on  the 

winter  midnight, 

I  see  the  sparkles  of  starshine  on  the  icy  and  pallid 
earth. 

28  A  shroud  I  see,  and  I  am  the  shroud — I  wrap  a  body, 

and  lie  in  the  coffin, 

It  is  dark  here  under  ground — it  is  not  evil  or  pain  here 
— it  is  blank  here,  for  reasons. 

29  It  seems  to  me  that  everything  in  the  light  and  air 

ought  to  be  happy, 

Whoever  is  not  in  his  coffin  and  the  dark  grave,  let  him 
know  he  has  enough. 

10 

30  I  see  a  beautiful  gigantic  swimmer,  swimming  naked 

through  the  eddies  of  the  sea, 

His  brown  hair  lies  close  and  even  to  his  head — he 
strikes  out  with  courageous  arms — he  urges  him 
self  with  his  legs, 

I  see  his  white  body — I  see  his  undaunted  eyes, 
I  hate  the  swift-running  eddies  that  would  dash  him 
head-foremost  on  the  rocks. 


224  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

31  What  are  you  doing,  you  ruffianly  red-trickled  waves  ? 
Will  you  kill  the  courageous  giant  ?  Will  you  kill  him 

in  the  prime  of  his  middle  age  ? 

32  Steady  and  long  he  struggles, 

He  is  baffled,  bang'd,  bruis'd — he  holds  out  while  his 

strength  holds  out, 
The  slapping  eddies  are  spotted  with  his  blood — they 

bear  him  away — they  roll  him,  swing  him,  turn 

him, 
His  beautiful  body  is  borne  in  the  circling  eddies,  it  is 

continually  bruis'd  on  rocks, 
Swiftly  and  out  of  sight  is  borne  the  brave  corpse. 

11 

83  I  turn,  but  do  not  extricate  myself, 
Confused,  a  past-reading,  another,  but  with  darkness 
yet. 

34  The  beach  is  cut  by  the  razory  ice-wind — the  wreck- 

guns  sound, 

The  tempest  lulls — the  moon  comes  floundering  through 
the  drifts. 

35  I  look  where  the  ship  helplessly  heads  end  on — I  hear 

the  burst  as  she  strikes — I  hear  the  howls  of 
dismay — they  grow  fainter  and  fainter. 

36  I  cannot  aid  with  my  wringing  fingers, 

I  can  but  rush  to  the  surf,  and  let  it  drench  me  and 
freeze  upon  me. 

37  I  search  with  the  crowd — not  one  of  the  company  is 

wash'd  to  us  alive  ; 

In  the  morning  I  help  pick  up  the  dead  and  lay  them 
in  rows  in  a  barn. 

12 

38  Now  of  the  older  war-days,  the  defeat  at  Brooklyn, 


THE  SLEEPEES.  225 

Washington  stands  inside  the  lines — he  stands  on  the 
intrench'd  hills,  amid  a  crowd  of  officers, 

His  face  is  cold  and  damp — he  cannot  repress  the  weep 
ing  drops, 

He  lifts  the  glass  perpetually  to  his  eyes— the  color  is 
blanch'd  from  his  cheeks, 

He  sees  the  slaughter  of  the  southern  braves  confided 
to  him  by  their  parents. 

39  The  same,  at  last  and  at  last,  when  peace  is  declared, 
He  stands  in  the   room  of  the  old  tavern — the  well- 

belov'd  soldiers  all  pass  through, 
The  officers  speechless  and  slow  draw  near  in  their 

turns, 
The  chief  encircles  their  necks  with  his  arm,  and  kisses 

them  on  the  cheek, 
He  kisses  lightly  the  wet  cheeks  one  after  another — he 

shakes  hands,  and  bids  good-by  to  the  army. 

13 

40  Now  I  tell  what  my  mother  told  me  to-day  as  we  sat 

at  dinner  together, 

Of  when  she  was  a  nearly  grown  girl,  living  home  with 
her  parents  on  the  old  homestead. 

41  A  red  squaw  came  one  breakfast  time  to  the  old 

homestead, 

On  her  back  she  carried  a  bundle  of  rushes  for  rush- 
bottoming  chairs, 

Her  hair,  straight,  shiny,  coarse,  black,  profuse,  half- 
envelop'd  her  face, 

Her  step  was  free  and  elastic,  and  her  voice  sounded 
exquisitely  as  she  spoke. 

42  My  mother  look'd  in  delight  and  amazement  at  the 

stranger, 
She  look'd  at  the  freshness  of  her  tall-borne  face,  and 

full  and  pliant  limbs, 
The  more  she  look'd  upon  her,  she  loved  her, 


226  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Never  before  had  she  seen  such  wonderful  beauty  and 
purity, 

She  made  her  sit  on  a  bench  by  the  jamb  of  the  fire 
place — she  cook'd  food  for  her, 

She  had  no  work  to  give  her,  but  she  gave  her  remem 
brance  and  fondness. 

43  The  red  squaw  staid  all  the  forenoon,  and  toward  the 

middle  of  the  afternoon  she  went  away, 

0  my  mother  was  loth  to  have  her  go  away ! 

All  the  week  she  thought  of  her — she  watch'd  for  her 

many  a  month, 

She  remember'd  her  many  a  winter  and  many  a  summer, 
But  the  red  squaw  never  came,  nor  was  heard  of  there 

again. 

14 

44  Now  Lucifer  was  not  dead — or  if  he  was,  I  am  his 

sorrowful  terrible  heir ; 

1  have  been  wrong'd — I  am  oppress'd — I  hate  him  that 

oppresses  me, 
I  will  either  destroy  him,  or  he  shall  release  me. 

15  Damn  him !  how  he  does  defile  me ! 

How  he  informs  against  my  brother  and  sister,  and 

takes  pay  for  their  blood ! 
How  he  laughs  when  I  look  down  the  bend,  after  the 

steamboat  that  carries  away  my  woman ! 

46  Now  the  vast  dusk  bulk  that  is  the  whale's  bulk,  it 

seems  mine  ; 

Warily,  sportsman !  though  I  lie  so  sleepy  and  slug 
gish,  the  tap  of  my  flukes  is  death. 

15 

47  A  show  of  the  summer  softness !  a  contact  of  some 

thing  unseen !  an  amour  of  the  light  and  air ! 
I  am  jealous,  and  overwhelmed  with  friendliness, 
And  will  go  gallivant  with  the  light  and  air  myself, 


THE  SLEEPEBS.  227* 

And  have  an  unseen  something  to  be  in  contact  with 
them  also. 

18  O  love  and  summer !  you  are  in  the  dreams,  and  in 

me! 
Autumn  and  winter  are  in  the   dreams — the   farmer 

goes  with  his  thrift, 
The  droves  and  crops  increase,  and  the  barns  are  well- 

fiira 


16 

49  Elements  merge  in  the  night — ships  make  tacks  in 

the  dreams, 

The  sailor  sails — the  exile  returns  home, 
The  fugitive  returns  unharm'd — the  immigrant  is  back 

beyond  months  and  years, 
The  poor  Irishman  lives  in  the  simple  house  of  his 

childhood,  with  the  well-known  neighbors  and 

faces, 
They  warmly  welcome  him — he  is  barefoot  again,  he 

forgets  he  is  well  oft' ; 
The  Dutchman  voyages  home,  and  the  Scotchman  and 

Welshman  voyage  home,  and  the  native  of  the 

Mediterranean  voyages  home, 
To  every  port  of  England,  France,  Spain,  enter  well- 

fiird  ships, 
The  Swiss  foots  it  toward  his  hills — the  Prussian  goes 

his  way,  the  Hungarian  his  way,  and  the  Pole 

his  way, 

The  Swede  returns,  and  the  Dane  and  Norwegian  re 
turn. 

17 

60  The  homeward  bound,  and  the  outward  bound, 
The  beautiful  lost  swimmer,  the  ennuye,  the  onanist, 
the  female  that  loves  unrequited,  the  money 
maker, 

The  actor  and  actress,  those  through  with  their  parts, 
and  those  waiting  to  commence, 


«228  LEAVES  OF  GEASS.      * 


The  affectionate  boy,  the  husband  and  wife,  the  voter, 

the  nominee  that  is  chosen,  and  the  nominee  that 

has  fail'd, 
The  great  already  known,  and  the  great  any  time  after 

to-day, 

The  stammerer,  the  sick,  the  perlect-form'd,  the  homely, 
The  criminal  that   stood  in  the  box,  the  judge  that  sat 

and  sentenced  him,  the  fluent  lawyers,  the  jury, 

the  audience, 
The   laugher   and   weeper,  the   dancer,   the   midnight 

widow,  the  red  squaw, 
The  consumptive,  the  erysipelite,  the  idiot,  he  that  is 

wrong'd, 
The  antipodes,  and  every  one  between  this  and  them  in 

the  dark, 
I  swear  they  are  averaged  now — one  is  no  better  than 

the  other, 
The  night  and  sleep  have  liken'd  them  and  restored 

them. 

51  I  swear  they  are  all  beautiful  ; 

Every  one  that  sleeps  is  beautiful — everything  in  the 

dim  light  is  beautiful, 
The  wildest  and  bloodiest  is  over,  and  all  is  peace. 

18 

62  Peace  is  always  beautiful, 

The  myth  of  heaven  indicates  peace  and  night. 

i3  The  myth  of  heaven  indicates  the  Soul  ; 

The  Soul  is  always  beautiful — itf  appears  more  or  it 
appears  less — it  comes,  or  it  lags  behind, 

It  comes  from  its  embower'd  garden,  and  looks  pleas 
antly  on  itself,  and  encloses  the  world, 

Perfect  and  clean  the  genitals  previously  jetting,  and 
perfect  and  clean  the  womb  cohering, 

The  head  well-grown,  proportioned  and  plumb,  and  the 
bowels  and  joints  proportioned  and  plumb. 


THE  SLEEPEES.  229 

19 

54  The  Soul  is  always  beautiful, 

The  universe  is  duly  in  order,  everything  is  in  its  place, 

What  has  arrived  is  in  its  place,  and  what  waits  is  in 

its  place  ; 
The  twisted  skull  waits,  the   watery  or  rotten  blood 

waits, 
The  child  of  the  glutton  or  venerealee  waits  long,  and 

the  child  of  the  drunkard  waits  long,  and  the 

drunkard  himself  waits  long. 
The  sleepers  that  lived  and  died  wait — the  far  advanced 

are  to  go  on  in  their  turns,  and  the  far  behind 

are  to  come  on  in  their  turns, 
The   diverse   shall  be  no  less  diverse,  but  they  shall 

flow  and  unite — they  unite  now. 

20 

65  The  sleepers  are  very  beautiful  as  they  lie  unclothed, 
They  flow  hand  in  hand  over  the  whole  earth,  from 

east  to  west,  as  they  lie  unclothed, 
The  Asiatic  and  African  are  hand  in  hand — the  Euro 
pean  and  American  are  hand  in  hand, 
Learn'd  and  unlearn'd  are  hand  in  hand,  and  male  and 

female  are  hand  in  hand, 
The  bare  arm  of  the  girl  crosses  the  bare  breast  of  her 

lover — they  press  close  without  lust — his  lips 

press  her  neck, 
The  father  holds  his  grown  or  ungrown  son  in  his  arms 

with  measureless  love,  and  the  son  holds  the 

father  in  his  arms  with  measureless  love, 
The  white  hair  of  the  mother  shines  on  the  white  wrist 

of  the  daughter, 
The  breath  of  the  boy  goes  with  the  breath  of  the  man, 

friend  is  inarm'd  by  friend, 
The  scholar  kisses  the  teacher,  and  the  teacher  kisses 

the  scholar — the  wrong'd  is  made  right, 
The  call  of  the  slave  is  one  with  the  master's  call,  and 

the  master  salutes  the  slave, 


230  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

The  felon  steps  forth  from  the  prison — the  insane  be 
comes  sane — the  suffering  of  sick  persons  is 
reliev'd, 

The  sweatings  and  fevers  stop — the  throat  that  was  un 
sound  is  sound — the  lungs  of  the  consumptive 
are  resumed — the  poor  distress'd  head  is  free, 

The  joints  of  the  rheumatic  move  as  smoothly  as  ever, 
and  smoother  than  ever, 

Stiflings  and  passages  open — the  paralyzed  become 
supple, 

The  swell'd  and  convuls'd  and  congested  awake  to 
themselves  in  condition, 

They  pass  the  invigoration  of  the  night,  and  the  chem 
istry  of  the  night,  and  awake. 

21 

66  I  too  pass  from  the  night, 

I  stay  a  while  away,  O  night,  but  I  return  to  you  again, 
and  love  you. 

57  Why  should  I  be  afraid  to  trust  myself  to  you? 

I  am  not  afraid — I  have  been  well  brought  forward  by 

you; 
I  love  the  rich  running  day,  but  I  do  not  desert  her  in 

whom  I  lay  so  long, 
I  know  not  how  I  came  of  you,  and  I  know  not  where 

I  go  with  you — but  I  know  I  came  well,  and  shall 

go  well. 

68  I  will  stop  only  a  time  with  the  night,  and  rise  be 
times  ; 

I  will  duly  pass  the  day,  0  my  mother,  and  duly  return 
to  you. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


CAROL  OF  WORDS. 


1  EARTH,  round,  rolling,  compact — stms,   moons,   ani 

mals — all  these  are  words  to  be  said  ; 

Watery,  vegetable,  sauroid  advances — beings,  premoni 
tions,  lispings  of  the  future, 

Behold !  these  are  vast  words  to  be  said. 

2  Were  you  thinking  that  those  were  the  words — those 

upright  lines  ?  those  curves,  angles,  dots  ? 
No,  those  are  not  the  words — the  substantial  words  are 

in  the  ground  and  sea, 
They  are  in  the  air — they  are  in  you. 

3  Were  you  thinking  that  those  were  the  words — those 

delicious  'sounds  out  of  your  friends'  mouths  ? 
No,  the  real  words  are  more  delicious  than  they. 

4  Human  bodies  are  words,  myriads  of  words  ; 

In  the  best  poems  re-appears  the  body,  man's  or  wo 
man's,  well-shaped,  natural,  gay, 

Every  part  able,  active,  receptive,  without  shame  or  the 
need  of  shame. 

2 

5  Air,  soil,  water,  fire — these  are  words  ; 

I  myself  am  a  word  with  them — my  qualities  interpene 
trate  with  theirs — my  name  is  nothing  to  them  ; 


232  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Though  it  were  told  in  the  three  thousand  languages, 
what  would  air,  soil,  water,  fire,  know  of  my 
name? 

6  A  healthy  presence,  a  friendly  or  commanding  ges 

ture,  are  words,  sayings,  meanings  ; 
The  charms  that  go  with  the  mere  looks  of  some  men 
and  women,  are  sayings  and  meanings  also. 

3 

7  The  workmanship  of  souls  is  by  the  inaudible  words 

of  the  earth  ; 

The  great  masters  know  the  earth's  words,  and  use 
them  more  than  the  audible  words. 

8  Amelioration  is  one  of  the  earth's  words ; 
The  earth  neither  lags  nor  hastens  ; 

It  has  all  attributes,  growths,  effects,  latent  in  itself 

from  the  jump  ; 
It  is  not  half  beautiful  only — defects  and  excrescences 

show  just  as  much  as  perfections  show. 

9  The  earth  does  not  withhold,  it  is  generous  enough  ; 
The  truths  of  the  earth  continually  wait,  they  are  not 

so  conceal'd  either ; 

They  are  calm,  subtle,  untransmissible  by  print ; 

They  are  imbued  through  all  things,  conveying  them 
selves  willingly, 

Conveying  a  sentiment  and  invitation  of  the  earth — I 
utter  and  utter, 

I  speak  not,  yet  if  you  hear  me  not,  of  what  avail  am  I 
to  you  ? 

To  bear — to  better — lacking  these,  of  what  avail  am  I  ? 


10  Accouche  !  Accouchez ! 

Will  you  rot  your  own  fruit  in  yourself  there  ? 
Will  you  squat  and  stifle  there  ? 

11  The  earth  does  not  argue, 


CAEOL  OF  WORDS.  233 

Is  not  pathetic,  has  no  arrangements, 
Does  not  scream,  haste,  persuade,  threaten,  promise, 
Makes  no  discriminations,  has  no  conceivable  failures, 
Closes  nothing,  refuses  nothing,  shuts  none  out, 
Of  all  the  powers,  objects,  states,  it  notifies,  shuts  none 
out. 


12  The  earth  does  not  exhibit  itself,  nor  refuse  to  ex 

hibit  itself  —  possesses  still  underneath  ; 
Underneath  the  ostensible  sounds,  the  august  chorus 

of  heroes,  the  wail  of  slaves, 
Persuasions    of    lovers,   curses,   gasps    of    the   dying, 

laughter  of  young  people,  accents  of  bargain 

ers, 
Underneath  these,   possessing  the  words  that  never 

fail. 


13  To  her  children,  the  words  of  the  eloquent  dumb 

great  mother  never  fail  ; 
The  true  words  do  not  fail,  for  motion  does  not  fail, 

and  reflection  does  not  fail  ; 
Also  the  day  and  night  do  not  fail,  and  the  voyage  we 

pursue  does  not  fail. 

6 

14  Of  the  interminable  sisters, 

Of  the  ceaseless  cotillions  of  sisters, 

Of  the  centripetal  and  centrifugal  sisters,  the  elder  and 

younger  sisters, 
The  beautiful  sister  we  know  dances  on  with  the  rest. 

15  With  her  ample  back  towards  every  beholder, 
With  the  fascinations  of  youth,  and  the  equal  fascina 

tions  of  age, 
Sits  she  whom  I  too  love  like  the  rest  —  sits  undis- 

turb'd, 
Holding  up  in  her  hand  what  has  the  character  of  a 

mirror,  while  her  eyes  glance  back  from  it, 


234  LEAVES  or  G-KASS. 

Glance  as  she  sits,  inviting  none,  denying  none, 
Holding  a  mirror  day  and  night  tirelessly  before  her 
own  face. 


16  Seen  at  hand,  or  seen  at  a  distance, 

Duly  the  twenty-four  appear  in  public  every  day, 

Duly  approach  and  pass  with  their  companions,  or  a 
companion, 

Looking  from  no  countenances  of  their  own,  but  from 
the  countenances  of  those  who  are  with  them, 

From  the  countenances  of  children  or  women,  or  the 
manly  countenance, 

From  the  open  countenances  of  animals,  or  from  inani 
mate  things, 

From  the  landscape  or  waters,  or  from  the  exquisite 
apparition  of  the  sky, 

From  our  countenances,  mine  and  yours,  faithfully  re 
turning  them, 

Every  day  in  public  appearing  without  fail,  but  never 
twice  with  the  same  companions. 

8 

17  Embracing  man,  embracing  all,  proceed  the  three 

hundred  and    sixty-five   resistlessly  round  the 
sun  ; 

Embracing  all,  soothing,  supporting,  follow  close  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  offsets  of  the  first,  sure 
and  necessary  as  they. 

9 

18  Tumbling  on  steadily,  nothing  dreading, 
Sunshine,  storm,  cold,  heat,  forever  withstanding,  pass 
ing,  carrying, 

The  Soul's  realization  and  determination  still  inherit 
ing, 

The  fluid  vacuum  around  and  ahead  still  entering  and 
dividing, 


CAROL  OF  WORDS.  235 

No  balk  retarding,  no  anchor  anchoring,  on  no  rock 
striking, 

Swift,  glad,  content,  unbereav'd,  nothing  losing, 

Of  all  able  and  ready  at  any  time  to  give  strict  ac 
count, 

The  divine  ship  sails  the  divine  sea. 

10 

19  Whoever  you  are!  motion  and  reflection  are  especi 

ally  for  you  ; 
The  divine  ship  sails  the  divine  sea  for  you. 

20  Whoever  you  are !  you  are  he  or  she  for  whom  the 

earth  is  solid  and  liquid, 
You  are  he  or  she  for  whom  the  sun  and  moon  hang  in 

the  sky, 

For  none  more  than  you  are  the  present  and  the  past, 
For  none  more  than  you  is  immortality. 

11 

21  Each  man  to  himself,  and  each  woman  to  herself, 

such  is  the  word  of  the  past  and  present,  and 

the  word  of  immortality ; 
No  one  can  acquire  for  another — not  one ! 
Not  one  can  grow  for  another — not  one ! 

22  The  song  is  to  the  singer,  and  comes  back  most  to 

him  ; 
The  teaching  is  to  the  teacher,  and  comes  back  most  to 

him  ; 
The  murder  is  to  the  murderer,  and  comes  back  most 

to  him  ; 

The  theft  is  to  the  thief,  and  comes  back  most  to  him  ; 
The  love  is  to  the  lover,  and  comes  back  most  to  him  ; 
The  gift  is  to  the  giver,  and  comes  back  most  to  him — 

it  cannot  fail ; 
The  oration  is  to  the  orator,  the  acting  is  to  the  actor 

and  actress,  not  to  the  audience  ; 
And  no  man  understands  any  greatness  or  goodness 

but  his  own,  or  the  indication  of  his  own. 


236  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

12 

23  I  swear  the  earth  shall  surely  be  complete  to  him  or 

her  who  shall  be  complete  ! 

I  swear  the  earth  remains  jagged  and  broken  only  to 
him  or  her  who  remains  jagged  and  broken  ! 

24  I  swear  there  is  no  greatness  or  power  that  does  not 

emulate  those  of  the  earth  ! 

I  swear  there  can  be  no  theory  of  any  account,  unless  it 
corroborate  the  theory  of  the  earth  ! 

No  politics,  art,  religion,  behavior,  or  what  not,  is  of 
account,  unless  it  compare  with  the  amplitude  of 
the  earth, 

Unless  it  face  the  exactness,  vitality,  impartiality,  recti 
tude  of  the  earth. 

13 

26  I  swear  I  begin  to  see  love  with  sweeter  spasms  than 

that  which  responds  love ! 
It  is  that  which  contains  itself — which  never  invites, 

and  never  refuses. 

26  I  swear  I  begin  to  see  little  or  nothing  in  audible 

words ! 
I  swear  I  think  all  merges  toward  the  presentation  of 

the  unspoken  meanings  of  the  earth  ! 
Toward  him  who  sings  the  songs  of  the  Body,  and  of 

the  truths  of  the  earth  ; 
Toward  him  who  makes  the  dictionaries  of  words  that 

print  cannot  touch. 

14 

27  I  swear  I  see  what  is  better  than  to  tell  the  best ; 
It  is  always  to  leave  the  best  untold. 

28  When  I  undertake  to  tell  the  best,  I  find  I  cannot, 
My  tongue  is  ineffectual  on  its  pivots, 

My  breath  will  not  be  obedient  to  its  organs, 
I  become  a  dumb  man. 


CAROL  OF  WORDS.  237 

29  The  best  of  the  earth  cannot  be  told  anyhow — all  or 

any  is  best ; 
It  is  not  what  you  anticipated — it  is  cheaper,  easier, 

nearer ; 
Things  are  not  dismiss'd  from  the  places  they  held 

before  ; 

The  earth  is  just  as  positive  and  direct  as  it  was  before  ; 
Facts,  religions,  improvements,  politics,  trades,  are  as 

real  as  before  ; 

But  the  Soul  is  also  real, — it  too  is  positive  and  direct ; 
No  reasoning,  no  proof  has  established  it, 
Undeniable  growth  has  establish'd  it. 

15 

30  This  is  a  poem — a  carol  of  words — these  are  hints  of 

meanings, 
These  are  to  echo  the  tones  of  Souls,  and  the  phrases 

of  Souls  ; 
If  they  did  not  echo  the  phrases  of  Souls,  what  were 

they  then  ? 
If  they  had  not  reference  to  you  in  especial,  what  were 

they  then  ? 

31  I  swear  I  will  never  henceforth  have  to  do  with  the 

faith  that  tells  the  best ! 

I  will  have  to  do  only  with  that  faith  that  leaves  the 
best  untold. 

16 

32  Say  on,  sayers  ! 

Delve  !  mould  !  pile  the  words  of  the  earth  ! 

Work  on — (it  is  materials  you  must  bring,  not  breaths  ;) 

Work  on,  age  after  age  !  nothing  is  to  be  lost ; 

It  may  have  to  wait  long,  but  it  will  certainly  come  in 

use  ; 
When  the  materials  are  all  prepared,  the  architects 

shall  appear. 

83  I  swear  to  you  the  architects  shall  appear  without 
fail !  I  announce  them  and  lead  them  ; 


238  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  swear  to  you  they  will  understand  you,  and  justify 

you; 
I  swear  to  you  the  greatest  among  them  shall  be  he 

who  best  knows  you,  and  encloses  all,  and  is 

faithful  to  all ; 
I  swear  to  you,  he  and  the  rest  shall  not  forget  you — 

they  shall  perceive  that  you  are  not  an  iota  less 

than  they ; 
I  swear  to  you,  you  shall  be  glorified  in  them. 


Ah  Poverties,  Wincings,  and  Sulky  Retreats. 

AH  poverties,  wincings,  and  sulky  retreats ! 

Ah  you  foes  that  in  conflict  have  overcome  me  ! 

(For  what  is  my  life,  or  any  man's  life,  but  a  conflict 
with  foes — the  old,  the  incessant  war?) 

You  degradations — you  tussle  with  passions  and  appe 
tites  ; 

You  smarts  from  dissatisfied  friendships,  (ah  wounds, 
the  sharpest  of  all ;) 

You  toil  of  painful  and  choked  articulations — you  mean 
nesses  ; 

You  shallow  tongue-talks  at  tables,  (my  tongue  the 
shallowest  of  any ;) 

You  broken  resolutions,  you  racking  angers,  you  smoth- 
er'd  ennuis  ; 

Ah,  think  not  you  finally  triumph— My  real  self  has  yet 
to  come  forth  ; 

It  shall  yet  march  forth  o'ermastering,  till  all  lies  be 
neath  me  ; 

It  shall  yet  stand  up  the  soldier  of  unquestion'd  victory. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

A  BOSTON   BALLAD. 

(1854.) 

1  To  get  betimes  in  Boston  town,  I  rose  this  morning 

early ; 

Here's  a  good  place  at  the  corner — I  must  stand  and 
see  the  show. 

2  Clear  the  way  there,  Jonathan! 

Way  for  the  President's  marshal !  Way  for  the  govern 
ment  cannon ! 

Way  for  the  Federal  foot  and  dragoons — and  the  appa 
ritions  copiously  tumbling. 

3  I  love  to  look  on  the  stars  and  stripes — I  hope  the 

fifes  will  play  Yankee  Doodle. 

4  How  bright  shine  the  cutlasses  of  the  foremost  troops ! 
Every  man  holds  his  revolver,  marching  stiff  through 

Boston  town. 

5  A  fog  follows — antiques  of  the  same  come  limping, 
Some  appear  wooden-legged,   and  some  appear  ban 
daged  and  bloodless. 

6  Why  this  is  indeed  a  show !  It  has  called  the  dead  out 

of  the  earth ! 

The  old  grave-yards  of  the  hills  have  hurried  to  see ! 

Phantoms !  phantoms  countless  by  flank  and  rear ! 

Cock'd  hats  of  mothy  mould !  crutches  made  of  mist ! 

Arms  in  slings !  old  men  leaning  on  young  men's  shoul 
ders  ! 


240  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

7  What  troubles  you,  Yankee  j^Jiantoms  ?     What  is  all 

this  chattering  of  bare  gums  ? 

Does  the  ague  convulse  your  limbs  ?  Do  you  mistake 
your  crutches  for  fire-locks,  and  level  them  ? 

8  If  you  blind  your  eyes  with  tears,  you  will  not  see  the 

President's  marshal ; 

If  you  groan  such  groans,  you  might  balk  the  govern 
ment  cannon. 

9  For  shame  old  maniacs!     Bring  down  those  toss'd 

arms,  and  let  your  white  hair  be  ; 
Here  gape  your  great  grand-sons — their  wives  gaze  at 

them  from  the  windows, 
See  how  well  dress'd — see  how  orderly  they  conduct 

themselves. 

10  Worse  and  worse!     Can't  you  stand  it?    Are  you 

retreating  ? 
Is  this  hour  with  the  living  too  dead  for  you? 

11  Eetreatthen!     Pell-mell! 

To  your  graves !     Back !  back  to  the  hills,  old  limpers ! 
I  do  not  think  you  belong  here,  anyhow. 

12  But  there  is  one  thing  that  belongs  here — shall  I  tell 

you  what  it  is,  gentlemen  of  Bostdn  ? 

18  I  will  whisper  it  to  the  Mayor — he  shall  send  a  com 
mittee  to  England  ; 

They  shall  get  a  grant  from  the  Parliament,  go  with  a 
cart  to  the  royal  vault — haste ! 

Dig  out  King  George's  coffin,  unwrap  him  quick  from 
the  grave-clothes,  box  up  his  bones  for  a  journey; 

Find  a  swift  Yankee  clipper — here  is  freight  for  you, 
black-bellied  clipper, 

Up  with  your  anchor!  shake  out  your  sails!  steer 
straight  toward  Boston  bay. 

14  Now  call  for  the  President's  marshal  again,  bring  out 
the  government  cannon, 


A  BOSTON  BALLAD.  241 

Fetch  home  the  roarers  from  Congress,  make  another 
procession,  guard  it  with  foot  and  dragoons. 

15  This  centre-piece  for  them  : 

Look!    all  orderly  citizens — look  from   the  windows, 
women ! 

16  The  committee  open  the  box,  set  up  the  regal  ribs, 

glue  those  that  will  not  stay, 

Clap  the  skull  on  top  of  the  ribs,  and  clap  a  crown  on 
top  of  the  skull. 

17  You  have  got  your  revenge,  old  buster !     The  crown 

is  come  to  its  own,  and  more  than  its  own. 

18  Stick  your  hands  in  your  pockets,  Jonathan — you  are 

a  made  man  from  this  day  ; 
You  are  mighty  cute — and  here  is  one  of  your  bargains. 


YEAR  OF  METEORS. 

(1859-60.) 

YEAR  of  meteors !  brooding  year ! 

I  would  bind  in  words  retrospective,  some  of  your  deeds 
and  signs ; 

I  would  sing  your  contest  for  the  19th  Presidentiad  ; 

I  would  sing  how  an  old  man,  tall,  with  white  hair, 
mounted  the  scaffold  in  Virginia  ; 

(I  was  at  hand — silent  I  stood,  with  teeth  shut  close — I 
watch'd ; 

I  stood  very  near  you,  old  man,  when  cool  and  indiffer 
ent,  but  trembling  with  age  and  your  unheal'd 
wounds,  you  mounted  the  scaffold  ;) 

— I  would  sing  in  my  copious  song  your  census  returns 
of  The  States, 

The  tables  of  population  and  products — I  would  sing  of 
your  ships  and  their  cargoes, 
11 


242  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

The  proud  black  ships  of  Manhattan,  arriving,  some 

fill'd  with  immigrants,  some  from  the  isthmus 

with  cargoes  of  gold  ; 
Songs  thereof  would  I  sing — to  all  that  hitherward 

comes  would  I  welcome  give  ; 
And  you  would  I  sing,  fair  stripling !  welcome  to  you 

from  me,  sweet  boy  of  England ! 
Kemember  you  surging  Manhattan's  crowds,  as  you 

pass'd  with  your  cortege  of  nobles  ? 
There  in  the  crowds  stood  I,  and  singled  you  out  with 

attachment ; 
I  know  not  why,  but  I  loved  you  .  .  .  (and  so  go  forth 

little  song, 
Far  over  sea  speed  like  an  arrow,  carrying  my  love  all 

folded, 
And  find  in  his  palace  the  youth  I  love,  and  drop  these 

lines  at  his  feet ;) 
— Nor  forget  I  to  sing  of  the  wonder,  the  ship  as  she 

swam  up  my  bay, 
Well-shaped  and  stately  the  Great  Eastern  swam  up  my 

bay,  she  was  600  feet  long, 
Her,  moving  swiftly,  surrounded  by  myriads  of  small 

craft,  I  forget  not  to  sing  ; 
— Nor  the  comet  that  came  unannounced,  out  of  the 

north,  flaring  in  heaven  ; 
Nor  the  strange  huge  meteor  procession,  dazzling  and 

clear,  shooting  over  bur  heads, 

(A  moment,  a  moment  long,  it  sail'd  its  balls  of  un 
earthly  light  over  our  heads, 

Then  departed,  dropt  in  the  night,  and  was  gone  ;) 
— Of  such,  and  fitful  as  they,  I  sing — with  gleams  from 

them  would  I  gleam  and  patch  these  chants  ; 
Your  chants,  O  year  all  mottled  with  evil  and  good ! 

year  of  forebodings !  year  of  the  youth  I  love ! 
Tear  of  comets  and  meteors  transient  and  strange ! — lo ! 

even  here,  one  equally  transient  and  strange ! 
As  I  flit  through  you  hastily,  soon  to  fall  and  be  gone, 

what  is  this  book, 
What  am  I  myself  but  one  of  your  meteors  ? 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


A  BROADWAY  PAGEANT. 

RECEPTION  JAPANESE  EMBASSY,  JUNE,  1860. 


1  OVER  the  western  sea,  hither  from  Niphon  come, 
Courteous,  the  swart-cheek'd,  two-sworded  envoys, 
Leaning  back  in   their  open  barouches,  bare-headed, 

impassive, 
Hide  to-day  through  Manhattan. 

2  Libertad! 

I  do  not  know  whether  others  behold  what  I  behold, 
In  the  procession,  along  with  the  nobles  of  Asia,  the 

errand-bearers, 
Bringing  up  the  rear,  hovering  above,  around,  or  in  the 

ranks  marching ; 
But  I  will  sing  you  a  song  of  what  I  behold,  Libertad. 


3  "When  million-footed  Manhattan,  unpent,  descends  to 

her  pavements  ; 
When  the  thunder-cracking  guns  arouse  me  with  the 

proud  roar  I  love  ; 
When  the  round-mouth'd  guns,  out  of  the  smoke  and 

smell  I  love,  spit  their  salutes  ; 


244  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

When  the  fire-flashing  guns  have  fully  alerted  me — 

when    heaven-clouds    canopy  my   city  with    a 

delicate  thin  haze ; 

When,  gorgeous,  the  countless  straight  stems,  the  for 
ests  at  the  wharves,  thicken  with  colors  ; 
When  every  ship,  richly  drest,  carries  her  flag  at  the 

peak  ; 
When  pennants  trail,  and  street-festoons  hang  from  the 

windows ; 
When  Broadway  is  entirely  given  up  to  foot-passengers 

and  foot-standers — when  the  mass  is  densest ; 
When  the  faqades  of  the  houses  are  alive  with  people — 

when  eyes  gaze,  riveted,  tens  of  thousands  at  a 

time  ; 
When  the  guests  from  the  islands  advance — when  the 

pageant  moves  forward,  visible  ; 
When  the  summons  is   made — when  the  answer  that 

waited  thousands  of  years,  answers  ; 
I  too,  arising,   answering,  descend  to  the  pavements, 

merge  with  the  crowd,  and  gaze  with  them. 

3 

4  Superb-faced  Manhattan ! 

Comrade  Americanos ! — to  us,  then,  at  last,  the  Orient 
comes. 

5  To  us,  my  city, 

Where  our  tall-topt  marble  and  iron  beauties  range  on 

opposite  sides — to  walk  in  the  space  between, 
To-day  our  Antipodes  comes. 

6  The  Originatress  comes, 

The  nest  of  languages,  the  bequeather  of  poems,  the 

race  of  eld, 
Florid  with  blood,  pensive,  rapt  with  musings,  hot  with 

passion, 

Sultry  with  perfume,  with  ample  and  flowing  garments, 
With  sunburnt  visage,  with  intense  soul  and  glittering 

eyes, 
The  race  of  Brahma  comes ! 


A  BROADWAY  PAGEANT.  245 


7  See,  my  cantabile !  these,  and  more,  are  flashing  to  us 

from  the  procession  ; 

As  it  moves,  changing,  a  kaleidoscope  divine  it  moves, 
changing,  before  us. 

8  For  not  the  envoys,  nor  the  tann'd  Japanee  from  his 

island  only  ; 

Lithe  and  silent,  the  Hindoo  appears — the  Asiatic  con 
tinent  itself  appears — the  Past,  the  dead, 

The  murky  night-morning  of  wonder  and  fable,  inscru 
table, 

The  envelop'd  mysteries,  the  old  and  unknown  hive- 
bees, 

The  North — the  sweltering  South — eastern  Assyria — 
the  Hebrews — the  Ancient  of  Ancients, 

Vast  desolated  cities — the  gliding  Present — all  of  these, 
and  more,  are  in  the  pageant-procession. 

9  Geography,  the  world,  is  in  it ; 

The  Great  Sea,  the  brood  of  islands,  Polynesia,  the 
coast  beyond  ; 

The  coast  you,  henceforth,  are  facing — you  Libertad! 
from  your  Western  golden  shores 

The  countries  there,  with  their  populations — the  mil 
lions  en-masse,  are  curiously  here  ; 

The  swarming  market  places — the  temples,  with  idols 
ranged  along  the  sides,  or  at  the  end — bonze, 
brahmin,  and  lama  ; 

The  mandarin,  farmer,  merchant,  mechanic,  and  fisher 
man  ; 

The  singing-girl  and  the  dancing-girl — the  ecstatic 
person — the  secluded  Emperors, 

Confucius  himself — the  great  poets  and  heroes — the 
warriors,  the  castes,  all, 

Trooping  up,  crowding  from  all  directions — from  the 
Altay  mountains, 

From  Thibet — from  the  four  winding  and  far-flowing 
rivers  of  China, 

From  the  Southern  peninsulas,  and  the  demi-conti- 
nental  islands — from  Malaysia  ; 


246  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

These,  and  whatever  belongs  to  them,  palpable,  show 

forth  to  me,  and  are  seiz'd  by  me, 
And  I  am  seiz'd  by  them,  and  friendlily  held  by  them, 
Till,  as  here,  them  all  I  chant,  Libertad  !  for  themselves 

and  for  you. 


10  For  I  too,  raising  my  voice,  join  the  ranks  of  this 

pageant ; 

I  am  the  chanter — I  chant  aloud  over  the  pageant ; 
I  chant  the  world  on  my  Western  Sea  ; 
I  chant,  copious,  the  islands  beyond,  thick  as  stars  in 

the  sky  ; 
I  chant  the  new  empire,  grander  than  any  before — As 

in  a  vision  it  comes  to  me  ; 

I  chant  America,  the  Mistress — I  chant  a  greater  su 
premacy  ; 
I  chant,  projected,  a  thousand  blooming  cities  yet,  in 

time,  on  those  groups  of  sea-islands ; 
I  chant  my  sail-ships  and  steam-ships  threading  the 

archipelagoes  ; 

I  chant  my  stars  and  stripes  fluttering  in  the  wind  ; 
I  chant  commerce  opening,  the  sleep  of  ages  having 

done  its  work — races,  reborn,  refresh'd  ; 
Lives,  works,  resumed — The  object  I  know  not — but 

the  old,  the  Asiatic,  renew'd,  as  it  must  be, 
Commencing  from  this  day,  surrounded  by  the  world. 

6 

11  And  you,  Libertad  of  the  world ! 

You  shall  sit  in  the  middle,  well-pois'd,  thousands  of 
years ; 

As  to-day,  from  one  side,  the  nobles  of  Asia  come  to 
you; 

As  to-morrow,  from  the  other  side,  the  Queen  of  Eng 
land  sends  her  eldest  son  to  you. 

7 

12  The  sign  is  reversing,  the  orb  is  enclosed, 
The  ring  is  circled,  the  journey  is  done  ; 


A  BROADWAY  PAGEANT.  247 

The  box-lid  is  but  perceptibly  open'd — nevertheless  the 
perfume  pours  copiously  out  of  the  whole  box. 

8 

3  Young  Libertad ! 

With  the  venerable  Asia,  the  all-mother, 
Be  considerate  with  her,  now  and  ever,  hot  Libertad — 

for  you  are  all ; 
Bend  your  proud  neck   to   the  long-off  mother,   now 

sending  messages  over  the  archipelagoes  to  you  ; 
Bend  your  proud  neck  low  for  once,  young  Libertad. 


14  Were  the  children  straying  westward  so  long?  so 

wide  the  tramping? 
Were  the  precedent  dim  ages   debouching  westward 

from  Paradise  so  long  ? 
Were  the  centuries  steadily  footing  it  that  way,  all  the 

while  unknown,  for  you,  for  reasons  ? 

15  They  are  justified — they  are  accomplish'd — they  shall 

now  be  turn'd  the  other  way  also,  to  travel  to 
ward  you  thence ; 

They  shall  now  also  march  obediently  eastward,  for 
your  sake,  Libertad. 


248  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

SUGGESTIONS. 


THAT  whatever  tastes  sweet  to  the  most  perfect  person 
— That  is  finally  right. 

2 

That  the  human  shape  or  face  is  so  great,  it  must  never 
be  made  ridiculous  ;  - 

That  for  ornaments  nothing  outre  can  be  allowed, 

That  anything  is  most  beautiful  without  ornament ; 

That  exaggerations  will  be  sternly  revenged  in  your 
own  physiology,  and  in  other  persons'  physiol 
ogy  also  ; 

That  clean-shaped  children  can  be  jetted  and  conceiv'd 
only  where  natural  forms  prevail  in  public,  and 
the  human  face  and  form  are  never  caricatured  ; 

And  that  genius  need  never  more  be  turn'd  to  ro 
mances, 

(For  facts  properly  told,  how  mean  appear  all  ro 
mances.) 

3 

I  have  said  many  times  that  materials  and  the  Soul  are 

great,  and  that  all  depends  on  physique  ; 
Now  I  reverse  what  I  said,  and  suggest  that  all  depends 

on  the  Eesthetic,  or  intellectual, 
And  that  criticism  is  great — and  that  refinement  is 

greatest  of  all ; 
And  that  the  mind  governs — and  that  all  depends  on 

the  mind. 


With  one  man  or  woman — (no  matter  which  one — I 

even  pick  out  the  lowest,) 
With  him  or  her  I  now  suggest  the  whole  law  ; 
And  that  every  right,  in  politics  or  what-not,  shall  be 

eligible  to  that  one  man  or  woman,  on  the  same 

terms  as  any. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


GREAT  ARE  THE  MYTHS. 


i 

1  GREAT  are  the  myths — I  too  delight  in  them  ; 

Great  are  Adam  and  Eve — I  too  look  back  and  accept 

them ; 
Great  the  risen  and  fallen  nations,  and  their  poets, 

women,  sages,  inventors,  rulers,  warriors,   and 

priests. 

2  Great  is  Liberty  !  great  is  Equality  !  I  am  their  fol 

lower  ; 
Helmsmen  of  nations,  choose  your  craft !  where  you 

sail,  I  sail, 
I  weather  it  out  with  you,  or  sink  with  you. 

3  Great  is  Youth — equally  great  is  Old  Age — great  are 

the  Day  and  Night ; 

Great  is  Wealth — great  is  Poverty — great  is  Expres 
sion — great  is  Silence. 

4  Youth,  large,  lusty,  loving — Youth,  full  of  grace,  force, 

fascination ! 

Do  you  know  that  Old  Age  may  come  after  you,  with 
equal  grace,  force,  fascination  ? 

6  Day,  full-blown  and  splendid — Day  of  the  immense 

sun,  action,  ambition,  laughter, 
The  Night   follows  close,  with  millions  of  suns,  and 

sleep,  and  restoring  darkness. 


250  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

6  Wealth,   with  the  flush  hand,   fine   clothes,   hospi 

tality  ; 

But  then  the  Soul's  wealth,  which  is  candor,  knowl 
edge,  pride,  enfolding  love  ; 

(Who  goes  for  men  and  women  showing  Poverty  richer 
than  wealth  ?) 

7  Expression  of  speech !  in  what  is  written  or  said,  for 

get  not  that  Silence  is  also  expressive, 
That  anguish  as  hot  as  the  hottest,  and  contempt  as 
cold  as  the  coldest,  may  be  without  words. 


8  Great  is  the  Earth,  and  the  way  it  became  what  it  is ; 
Do  you  imagine  it  has  stopt  at  this  ?  the  increase  aban- 

don'd  ? 

Understand  then  that  it  goes  as  far  onward  from  this, 
as  this  is  from  the  times  when  it  lay  in  covering 
waters  and  gases,  before  man  had  appeared. 

9  Great  is  the  quality  of  Truth  in  man  ; 

The  quality  of  truth  in  man  supports  itself  through  all 

changes, 
It  is  inevitably  in  the  man — he  and  it  are  in  love,  and 

never  leave  each  other. 

10  The  truth  in  man  is  no  dictum,  it  is  vital  as  eye 

sight  ; 
If  there  be  any  Soul,  there  is  truth — if  there  be  man  or 

woman  there  is  truth — if  there  be  physical  or 

moral,  there  is  truth  ; 
If  there  be  equilibrium  or  volition,  there  is  truth — if 

there  be  things  at  all  upon  the  earth,  there  is 

truth. 

11  0  truth  of  the  earth !  I  am  determined  to  press  my 

way  toward  you ; 

Sound  your  voice!  I  scale  mountains,  or  dive  in  the 
sea  after  you. 


GEEAT  AEE  THE  MYTHS.         251 

3 

12  Great  is  Language — it  is  the  mightiest  of  the  sci 

ences, 

It  is  the  fulness,  color,  form,  diversity  of  the  earth,  and 
of  men  and  women,  and  of  all  qualities  and  pro 
cesses  ; 

It  is  greater  than  wealth — it  is  greater  than  buildings, 
ships,  religions,  paintings,  music. 

13  Great  is  the  English  speech — what  speech  is  so  great 

as  the  English  ? 
Great  is  the  English  brood — what  brood  has  so  vast  a 

destiny  as  the  English  ? 
It  is  the  mother  of  the  brood  that  must  rule  the  earth 

with  the  new  rule  ; 
The  new  rule  shall  rule  as  the  Soul  rules,  and  as  the 

love,  justice,  equality  in  the  Soul  rule. 

14  Great  is  Law — great  are  the  few  old  land-marks  of 

the  law, 

They  are  the  same  in  all  times,  and  shall  not  be  dis- 
turb'd. 

4 

15  Great  is  Justice  ! 

Justice  is  not  settled  by  legislators  and  laws — it  is  in 

the  Soul ; 
It  cannot  be  varied  by  statutes,  any  more  than  love, 

pride,  the  attraction  of  gravity,  can  ; 
It  is  immutable — it  does  not  depend  on  majorities — 

majorities  or  what  not,  come  at  last  before  the 

same  passionless  and  exact  tribunal. 

16  For  justice  are  the  grand  natural  lawyers,  and  per 

fect  judges — is  it  in  their  Souls  ; 
It  is  well  assorted — they  have  not  studied  for  nothing 

— the  great  includes  the  less  ; 
They  rule  on  the  highest  grounds — they  oversee  all 

eras,  states,  administrations. 


252  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

17  The  perfect  judge  fears  nothing — he  could  go  front  to 

front  before  God ; 
Before  the  perfect  judge  all  shall  stand  back — life  and 

death  shall  stand  back — heaven  and  hell  shall 

stand  back. 


18  Great  is  Life,  real  and  mystical,  wherever  and  who 

ever  ; 

Great  is  Death — sure  as  life  holds  all  parts  together, 
Death  holds  all  parts  together. 

19  Has  Life  much  purport  ? — Ah,  Death  has  the  great 

est  purport. 


Thought. 


OF  persons  arrived  at  high  positions,  ceremonies,  wealth, 

scholarships,  and  the  like  ; 
To  me,  all  that  those  persons  have  arrived  at,  sinks 

away  from  them,  except  as  it  results  to  their 

Bodies  and  Souls, 

So  that  often  to  me  they  appear  gaunt  and  naked  ; 
And  often,  to  me,  each  one  mocks  the  others,  and  mocks 

himself  or  herself, 
And  of  each  one,  the  core  of  life,  namely  happiness,  is 

full  of  the  rotten  excrement  of  maggots, 
And  often,  to  me,  those  men  and  women  pass  unwit 
tingly  the  true  realities  of  life,  and  go  toward 

false  realities, 
And  often,  to  me,  they  are  alive  after  what  custom  has 

served  them,  but  nothing  more, 
And  often,  to  me,  they  are  sad,  hasty,  unwaked  sonnam- 

bules,  walking  the  dusk. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


THERE  WAS  A  CHILD  WENT  FORTH. 

1  THERE  was  a  child  went  forth  every  day ; 

And  the  first  object  he  look'd  upon,  that  object  he 

became  ; 
And  that  object  became  part  of  him  for  the  day,  or  a 

certain  part  of  the  day,  or  for  many  years,  or 

stretching  cycles  of  years. 

2  The  early  lilacs  became  part  of  this  child, 

And  grass,  and  white  and  red  morning-glories,  and 

white  and  red  clover,  and  the  song  of  the  phcebe- 

bird, 
And  the  Third-month  lambs,  and  the  sow's  pink-faint 

litter,  and  the  mare's  foal,  and  the  cow's  calf, 
And  the  noisy  brood  of  the  barn-yard,  or  by  the  mire 

of  the  pond-side, 
And  the  fish  suspending  themselves  so  curiously  below 

there — and  the  beautiful  curious  liquid, 
And  the  water-plants  with  their  graceful  flat  heads — all 

became  part  of  him. 

3  The  field-sprouts  of  Fourth-month  and  Fifth-month 

became  part  of  him  ; 
Winter-grain   sprouts,  and  those   of  the  light-yellow 

corn,  and  the  esculent  roots  of  the  garden, 
And  the  apple-trees  cover 'd  with  blossoms,  and  the  fruit 

afterward,  and  wood-berries,  and  the  commonest 

weeds  by  the  road  ; 


254  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

And  the  old  drunkard  staggering  home  from  the  out 
house  of  the  tavern,  whence  he  had  lately  risen, 

And  the  school-mistress  that  pass'd  on  her  way  to  the 
school, 

And  the  friendly  boys  that  pass'd — and  the  quarrelsome 
boys, 

And  the  tidy  and  fresh-cheek'd  girls — and  the  barefoot 
negro  boy  and  girl, 

And  all  the  changes  of  city  and  country,  wherever  he 
went. 


4  His  own  parents, 

He  that  had  father'd  him,  and  she  that  had  conceived 

him  in  her  womb,  and  birth'd  him, 
They  gave  this  child  more  of  themselves  than  that ; 
They  gave  him  afterward  every  day — they  became  part 

of  him. 


5  The  mother  at  home,  quietly  placing  the  dishes  on 

the  supper-table  ; 
The  mother  with  mild  words — clean  her  cap  and  gown, 

a  wholesome  odor  falling  off  her  person  and 

clothes  as  she  walks  by ; 
The  father,  strong,  self-sufficient,  manly,  mean,  anger'd, 

unjust ; 
The  blow,  the  quick  loud  word,  the  tight  bargain,  the 

crafty  lure, 

The  family  usages,  the  language,  the  company,  the  fur 
niture — the  yearning  and  swelling  heart, 
Affection  that  will  not  be  gainsay'd — the  sense  of  what 

is  real — the  thought  if,  after  all,  it  should  prove 

unreal, 
The  doubts  of  day-time  and  the  doubts  of  night-time— 

the  curious  whether  and  how, 
Whether  that  which  appears  so  is  so,  or  is  it  all  flashes 

and  specks  ? 
Men  and  women  crowding  fast  in  the  streets — if  they 

are  not  flashes  and  specks,  what  are  they  ? 
The  streets  themselves,  and  the  facades  of  houses,  and 

goods  in  the  windows, 


LEAVES  or  GKASS.  255 

Vehicles,  teams,  the  heavy-plank'd  wharves — the  huge 

crossing  at  the  ferries, 
The  village  on  the  highland,  seen  from  afar  at  sunset — 

the  river  between, 
Shadows,  aureola  and  mist,  the  light  falling  on  roofs 

and  gables  of  white  or  brown,  three  miles  off, 
The  schooner  near  by,  sleepily  dropping  down  the  tide 

— the  little  boat  slack-tow'd  astern, 
The   hurrying    tumbling   waves,   quick-broken   crests, 

slapping, 

The  strata  of  color'd  clouds,  the  long  bar  of  maroon- 
tint,  away  solitary  by  itself — the  spread  of  purity 

it  lies  motionless  in, 
The  horizon's  edge,  the  flying  sea-crow,  the  fragrance 

of  salt  marsh  and  shore  mud  ; 
These  became  part  of  that  child  who  went  forth  every 

day,  and  who  now  goes,  and  will  always  go  forth 

every  day. 


LONGINGS  FOR  HOME. 

O  MAGNET-SOUTH  !  O  glistening,  perfumed  South !     My 

South! 
O  quick  mettle,  rich  blood,  impulse,  and  love !     G-ood 

and  evil !     O  all  dear  to  me  ! 
O  dear  to  me  my  birth-things — All  moving  things,  and 

the  trees  where  I  was  born — the  grains,  plants, 

rivers  ; 
Dear  to  me  my  own  slow  sluggish  rivers  where  they 

flow,   distant,    over   flats    of    silvery   sands,   or 

through  swamps ; 
Dear  to  me  the  Koanoke,  the  Savannah,  the  Altamahaw, 

the  Pedee,  the  Tombigbee,  the  Santee,  the  Coosa, 

and  the  Sabine ; 
O  pensive,  far  away  wandering,  I  return  with  my  Soul 

to  haunt  their  banks  again  ; 
Again  in  Florida  I  float  on  transparent  lakes — I  float 

on  the  Okeechobee — I  cross  the  hummock  land, 

or  through  pleasant  openings,  or  dense  forests  ; 


256  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

I  see  the  parrots  in  the  woods — I  see  the  papaw  tree 
and  the  blossoming  titi  ; 

Again,  sailing  in  rny  coaster,  on  deck,  I  coast  off 
Georgia — I  coast  up  the  Carolinas, 

I  see  where  the  live-oak  is  growing — I  see  where  the 
yellow-pine,  the  scented  bay-tree,  the  lemon  and 
orange,  the  cypress,  the  graceful  palmetto  ; 

I  pass  rude  sea-headlands  and  enter  Pamlico  Sound 
through  an  inlet,  and  dart  my  vision  inland  ; 

O  the  cotton  plant !  the  growing  fields  of  rice,  sugar, 
hemp! 

The  cactus,  guarded  with  thorns — the  laurel-tree,  with 
large  white  flowers ; 

The  range  afar — the  richness  and  barrenness — the  old 
woods  charged  with  mistletoe  and  trailing  moss, 

The  piney  odor  and  the  gloom — the  awful  natural  still 
ness,  (Here  in  these  dense  swamps  the  freebooter 
carries  his  gun,  and  the  fugitive  slave  has  his 
concealjd  hut ;) 

O  the  strange  fascination  of  these  half-known,  half- 
impassable  swamps,  infested  by  reptiles,  resound 
ing  with  the  bellow  of  the  alligator,  the  sad 
noises  of  the  night-owl  and  the  wild-cat,  and  the 
whirr  of  the  rattlesnake  ; 

The  mocking-bird,  the  American  mimic,  singing  all  the 
forenoon — singing  through  the  moon-lit  night, 

The  humming-bird,  the  wild  turkey,  the  raccoon,  the 
opossum  ; 

A  Tennessee  corn-field — the  tall,  graceful,  long-leav'd 
corn — slender,  flapping,  bright  green,  with  tas 
sels — with  beautiful  ears,  each  well-sheath'd  in 
its  husk  ; 

An  Arkansas  prairie — a  sleeping  lake,  or  still  bayou  ; 

O  my  heart !  O  tender  and  fierce  pangs — I  can  stand 
them  not — I  will  depart ; 

O  to  be  a  Virginian,  where  I  grew  up !  O  to  be  a  Caro 
linian  ! 

O  longings  irrepressible !  O  I  will  go  back  to  old  Ten 
nessee,  and  never  wander  more ! 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  257 


THINK  OF  THE  SOUL. 

1  THINK  of  the  Soul ; 

I  swear  to  you  that  body  of  yours  gives  proportions  to 
your  Soul  somehow  to  live  in  other  spheres ; 

1  do  not  know  how,  but  I  know  it  is  so. 

2  Think  of  loving  and  being  loved  ; 

I  swear  to  you,  whoever  you  are,  you  can  interfuse  your 
self  with  such  things  that  everybody  that  sees 
you  shall  look  longingly  upon  you. 

3  Think  of  the  past ; 

I  warn  you  that  in  a  little  while  others  will  find  their 
past  in  you  and  your  times. 

4  The  race  is  never  separated — nor  man  nor  woman 

escapes ; 

All  is  inextricable — things,  spirits,  Nature,  nations,  you 
too — from  precedents  you  come. 

5  Recall  the  ever-welcome  defiers,  (The  mothers  pre 

cede  them  ;) 
Recall  the  sages,  poets,  saviors,  inventors,  lawgivers,  of 

the  earth  ; 
Recall  Christ,  brother  of  rejected  persons — brother  of 

slaves,  felons,  idiots,  and  of  insane  and  diseas'd 

persons. 

6  Think  of  the  time  when  you  were  not  yet  born  ; 
Think  of  times  you  stood  at  the  side  of  the  dying ; 
Think  of  the  time  when  your  own  body  will  be  dying. 

7  Think  of  spiritual  results, 

Sure  as  the  earth  swims  through  the  heavens,  does  every 
one  of  its  objects  pass  into  spiritual  results. 

8  Think  of  manhood,  and  you  to  be  a  man  ; 

Do  you  count  manhood,  and  the  sweet  of  manhood, 
nothing  ? 


258  LEA.VES  OF  GRASS. 

9  Think  of  womanhood,  and  you  to  be  a  woman  ; 
The  creation  is  womanhood  ; 
Have  I  not  said  that  womanhood  involves  all  ? 
Have  I  not  told  how  the  universe  has  nothing  better 
than  the  best  womanhood  ? 


You  Felons  on  Trial  in  Courts. 

1  You  felons  on  trial  in  courts  ; 

You  convicts  in  prison-cells — you  sentenced  assassins, 
chain'd  and  hand-cuff'd  with  iron  ; 

Who  am  I,  too,  that  I  am  not  on  trial,  or  in  prison  ? 

Me,  ruthless  and  devilish  as  any,  that  my  wrists  are  not 
chain'd  with  iron,  or  my  ankles  with  iron  ? 

2  You  prostitutes  flaunting  over  the  trottoirs,  or  ob 

scene  in  your  rooms, 

Who  am  I,  that  I  should  call  you  more  obscene  than 
myself? 

3  O  culpable ! 

I  acknowledge — I  expose ! 

(O  admirers !  praise  not  me !  compliment  not  me !  you 

make  me  wince, 
I  see  what  you  do  not— I  know  what  you  do  not.) 

4  Inside  these  breast-bones  I  lie  srnutch'd  and  choked  ; 
Beneath  this  face  that  appears  so  impassive,  hell's  tides 

continually  run  ; 

Lusts  and  wickedness  are  acceptable  to  me  ; 
I  walk  with  delinquents  with  passionate  love  ; 
I  feel  I  am  of  them — I  belong  to  those  convicts  and 

prostitutes  myself, 
And  henceforth  I  will  not  deny  them — for  how  can  I 

deny  myself  ? 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  259 


To  a  Common  Prostitute. 

1  BE  composed — be  at  ease  with  me — I  am  Walt  Whit 

man,  liberal  and  lusty  as  Nature  ; 
Not  till  the  sun  excludes  you,  do  I  exclude  you  ; 
Not  till  the  waters  refuse  to  glisten  for  you,  and  the 

leaves  to  rustle  for  you,  do  my  words  refuse  to 

glisten  and  rustle  for  you. 

2  My  girl,  I  appoint  with  you  an  appointment — and  I 

charge  you  that  you  make  preparation  to  be 
worthy  to  meet  me, 

And  I  charge  you  that  you  be  patient  and  perfect  till  I 
come. 

3  Till  then,  I  salute  you  with  a  significant  look,  that 

you  do  not  forget  me. 


I  was  Looking  a  Long  While. 

I  WAS  looking  a  long  while  for  a  clue  to  the  history  of 
the  past  for  myself,  and  for  these  chants — and 
now  I  have  found  it ; 

It  is  not  in  those  paged  fables  in  the  libraries,  (them  I 
neither  accept  nor  reject ;) 

It  is  no  more  in  the  legends  than  in  all  else  ; 

It  is  in  the  present — it  is  this  earth  to-day  ; 

It  is  in  Democracy — (the  purport  and  aim  of  all  the 
past ;) 

It  is  the  life  of  one  man  or  one  woman  to-day — the  av 
erage  man  of  to-day  ; 

It  is  in  languages,  social  customs,  literatures,  arts ; 

It  is  in  the  broad  show  of  artificial  things,  ships,  ma 
chinery,  politics,  creeds,  modern  improvements, 
and  the  interchange  of  nations, 

All  for  the  average  man  of  to-day. 


260  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 


To  a  President. 

ALL  you  are  doing  and  saying  is  to  America  dangled 
mirages ; 

You  have  not  learn'd  of  Nature — of  the  politics  of  Na 
ture,  you  have  not  learn'd  the  great  amplitude, 
rectitude,  impartiality  ; 

You  have  not  seen  that  only  such  as  they  are  for  These 
States, 

And  that  what  is  less  than  they,  must  sooner  or  later 
lift  off  from  These  States. 


TO  THE  STATES, 

To  Identify  the  i6th,  iyth,  or  i8th  Presidentiad. 

WHY  reclining,   interrogating?     Why  myself  and  all 

drowsing  ? 
What  deepening  twilight !    scum  floating  atop  of  the 

waters ! 
Who  are  they,  as  bats  and  night-dogs,  askant  in  the 

Capitol? 
What  a  filthy  Presidentiad !  (O  south,  your  torrid  suns ! 

O  north,  your  arctic  freezings !) 
Are  those  really  Congressmen?    are  those  the  great 

Judges  ?  is  that  the  President  ? 
Then  I  will  sleep  awhile  yet — for  I  see  that  These  States 

sleep,  for  reasons  ; 
(With  gathering  murk — with  muttering  thunder  and 

lambent  shoots,  we  all  duly  awake, 
South,  north,  east,  west,  inland  and  seaboard,  we  will 

surely  awake.)  . 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


DRUM-TAPS. 


Aroused  and  angry, 

I  thought  to  beat  the  alarum,  and  urge  relentless  war; 

But  soon  my  fingers  fail  'd  me,  my  face  droop* d,  and  I 

resigned  myself, 
To  sit  by  the  wounded  and  soothe  them,  or  silently  watch 

the  dead. 


DRUM-TAPS. 


1  FIRST,  O  songs,  for  a  prelude, 

Lightly  strike  on  the  stretch'd  tympanum,  pride  and  joy 
in  my  city, 

How  she  led  the  rest  to  arm's — how  she  gave  the  cue, 

How  at  once  with  lithe  limbs,  unwaiting  a  moment,  she 
sprang  ; 

(O  superb  !  O  Manhattan,  my  own,  my  peerless ! 

O  strongest  you  in  the  hour  of  danger,  in  crisis !  O 
truer  than  steel !) 

How  you  sprang  !  how  you  threw  off  the  costumes  of 
peace  with  indifferent  hand  ; 

How  your  soft  opera-music  changed,  and  the  drum  and 
fife  were  heard  in  their  stead  ; 

How  you  led  to  the  war,  (that  shall  serve  for  our  pre 
lude,  songs  of  soldiers,) 

How  Manhattan  drum-taps  led. 


262  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

2 

2  Forty  years  had  I  in  my  city  seen  soldiers  parading ; 
Forty  years  as  a  pageant — till  unawares,  the  Lady  of 

this  teeming  and  turbulent  city, 
Sleepless,  amid  her  ships,  her  houses,  her  incalculable 

wealth, 

With  her  million  children  around  her — suddenly, 
At  dead  of  night,  at  news  from  the  south, 
Incens'd,  struck  with  clench'd  hand  the  pavement. 

8  A  shock  electric — the  night  sustained  it ; 
Till  with  ominous  hum,  our  hive  at  day-break  pour'd 
out  its  myriads. 

4  From    the   houses    then,   and   the   workshops,   and 

through  all  the  doorways, 
Leapt  they  tumultuous — and  lo  !  Manhattan  arming. 

3 

6  To  the  drum-taps  prompt, 

The  young  men  falling  in  and  arming  ; 

The  mechanics  arming,  (the  trowel,  the  jack-plane,  the 

blacksmith's  hammer,  tost  aside  with  precipita 
tion  ;) 
The  lawyer  leaving  his  office,  and  arming — the  judge 

leaving  the  court  ; 
The  driver  deserting  his  wagon  in  the  street,  jumping 

down,  throwing  the  reins  abruptly  down  on  the 

horses'  backs  ; 
The  salesman  leaving  the  store — the  boss,  book-keeper, 

porter,  all  leaving  ; 
Squads  gather  everywhere  by  common  consent,  and 

arm ; 
The  new  recruitg,  even  boys — the  old  men  show  them 

how  to  wear  their  accoutrements — they  buckle 

the  straps  carefully ; 
Outdoors   arming — indoors  arming — the  flash  of  the 

musket-barrels ; 
The  white  tents  cluster  in  camps — the  arm'd  sentries 

around — the  sunrise  cannon,  and  again  at  sunset; 


DRUM-TAPS.  263 

Arm'd  regiments  arrive  every  day,  pass  through  the 
city,  and  embark  from  the  wharves  : 

(How  gcod  they  look,  as  they  tramp  down  to  the  river, 
sweaty,  with  their  guns  on  their  shoulders  ! 

How  I  love  them !  how  I  could  hug  them,  with  their 
brown  faces,  and  their  clothes  and  knapsacks 
cover'd  with  dust !) 

The  blood  of  the  city  up — arm'd  !  arm'd  !  the  cry- 
everywhere  ; 

The  flags  flung  out  from  the  steeples  of  churches,  and 
from  all  the  public  buildings  and  stores  ; 

The  tearful  parting — the  mother  kisses  her  son — the 
son  kisses  his  mother  ; 

(Loth  is  the  mother  to  part — yet  not  a  word  does  she 
speak  to  detain  him  ;) 

The  tumultuous  escort — the  ranks  of  policemen  preced 
ing,  clearing  the  way ; 

The  unpent  enthusiasm — the  wild  cheers  of  the  crowd 
for  their  favorites  ; 

The  artillery — the  silent  cannons,  bright  as  gold,  drawn 
along,  rumble  lightly  over  the  stones  ; 

(Silent  cannons — soon  to  cease  your  silence  ! 

Soon,  unlimber'd,  to  begin  the  red  business  ;) 

All  the  mutter  of  preparation — all  the  determin'd 
arming ; 

The  hospital  service — the  lint,  bandages,  and  medi 
cines  ; 

The  women  volunteering  for  nurses — the  work  begun 
for,  in  earnest — no  mere  parade  now ; 

War !  an  arm'd  race  is  advancing ! — the  welcome  for 
battle — no  turning  away  ; 

War !  be  it  weeks,  months,  or  years — an  arm'd  race  is 
advancing  to  welcome  it. 

4 

6  Mannahatta  a-march  ! — and  it's  0  to  sing  it  well ! 
It's  O  for  a  manly  life  in  the  camp ! 

7  And  the  sturdy  artillery ! 

The  guns,  bright  as  gold — the  work  for  giants — to  serve 
well  the  guns : 


264  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

Unlimber  them !  no  more,  as  the  past  forty  years,  for 

salutes  for  courtesies  merely  ; 
Put  in  something  else  now  besides  powder  and  wadding. 


8  And  you,  Lady  of  Ships !  you  Mannahatta ! 
Old  matron  of  this  proud,  friendly,  turbulent  city ! 
Often  in  peace  and  wealth  you  were  pensive,  or  covertly 

frown'd  amid  all  your  children  ; 
But  now  you  smile  with  joy,  exulting  old  Mannahatta ! 


1861. 

ARM*D  year  !  year  of  the  struggle ! 

No  dainty  rhymes  or  sentimental  love  verses  for  you, 
terrible  year ! 

Not  you  as  some  pale  poetling,  seated  at  a  desk,  lisping 
cadenzas  piano  ; 

But  as  a  strong  man,  erect,  clothed  in  blue  clothes,  ad 
vancing,  carrying  a  rifle  on  your  shoulder, 

With  well-gristled  body  and  sunburnt  face  and  hands 
— with  a  knife  in  the  belt  at  your  side, 

As  I  heard  you  shouting  loud — your  sonorous  voice 
ringing  across  the  continent ; 

Your  masculine  voice,  O  year,  as  rising  amid  the  great 
cities, 

Amid  the  men  of  Manhattan  I  saw  you,  as  one  of  the 
workmen,  the  dwellers  in  Manhattan  ; 

Or  with  large  steps  crossing  the  prairies  out  of  Illinois 
and  Indiana, 

Rapidly  crossing  the  West  with  springy  gait,  and  de 
scending  the  Alleghanies ; 

Or  down  from  the  great  lakes,  or  in  Pennsylvania,  or  on 
deck  along  the  Ohio  river  ; 

Or  southward  along  the  Tennessee  or  Cumberland  rivers, 
or  at  Chattanooga  on  the  mountain  top, 


DRUM-TAPS.  265 

Saw  I  your  gait  and  saw  I  your  sinewy  limbs,  clothed 
in  blue,  bearing  weapons,  robust  year  ; 

Heard  your  determined  voice,  launch'd  forth  again  and 
again; 

Year  that  suddenly  sang  by  the  mouths  of  the  round- 
lipp'd  cannon, 

I  repeat  you,  hurrying,  crashing,  sad,  distracted  year. 


BEAT!  BEAT!  DRUMS! 

1 

BEAT  !  beat  i  drums  ! — Blow !  bugles !  blow  ! 

Through   the  windows — through  doors — burst  like   a 

ruthless  force, 

Into  the  solemn  church,  and  scatter  the  congregation  ; 
Into  the  school  where  the  scholar  is  studying  ; 
Leave  not  the  bridegroom  quiet — no  happiness  must  he 

have  now  with  his  bride  ; 
Nor  the  peaceful  farmer  any  peace,  plowing  his  field  or 

gathering  his  grain  ; 
So  fierce  you  whirr  and  pound,  you  drums — so  shrill 

you  bugles  blow. 


Beat !  beat !  drums  ! — Blow  !   bugles !  blow  ! 

Over  the  traffic  of  cities — over  the  rumble  of  wheels  in 
the  streets  : 

Are  beds  prepared  for  sleepers  at  night  in  the  houses  ? 
No  sleepers  must  sleep  in  those  beds  ; 

No  bargainers'  bargains  by  day — no  brokers  or  specu 
lators — Would  they  continue  ? 

Would  the  talkers  be  talking  ?  would  the  singer  attempt 
to  sing  ? 

Would  the  lawyer  rise  in  the  court  to  state  his  case  be 
fore  the  judge  ? 

Then  rattle  quicker,  heavier  drums — you  bugles  wilder 
blow. 

12 


LEAVES  OF  GTKASS. 


Beat !   beat !  drums ! — Blow !  bugles  !  blow ! 

Make  no  parley — stop  for  no  expostulation  ; 

Mind  not  the  timid — mind  not  the  weeper  or  prayer  ; 

Mind  not  the  old  man  beseeching  the  young  man  ; 

Let  not  the  child's  voice  be  heard,  nor  the  mother's  en 
treaties  ; 

Make  even  the  trestles  to  shake  the  dead,  where  they 
lie  awaiting  the  hearses, 

So  strong  you  thump,  O  terrible  drums — so  loud  you 
bugles  blow. 


FROM  PAUMANOK   STARTING  I  FLY  LIKE  A 
BIRD. 

FROM  Paumanok  starting,  I  fly  like  a  bird, 

Around  and  around  to  soar,  to  sing  the  idea  of  all ; 

To  the  north  betaking  myself,  to  sing  there  arctic 
songs, 

To  Kanada,  'till  I  absorb  Kanada  in  myself — to  Michi 
gan  then, 

To  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  Minnesota,  to  sing  their  songs, 
(they  are  inimitable  ;) 

Then  to  Ohio  and  Indiana  to  sing  theirs — to  Missouri 
and  Kansas  and  Arkansas,  to  sing  theirs, 

To  Tennessee  and  Kentucky — to  the  Carolinas  and 
Georgia,  to  sing  theirs, 

To  Texas,  and  so  along  up  toward  California,  to  roam 
accepted  everywhere  ; 

To  sing  first,  (to  the  tap  of  the  war-drum,  if  need  be,) 

The  idea  of  all — of  the  western  world,  one  and  insepa 
rable, 

And  then  the  song  of  each  member  of  These  States. 


DBUM-TAPS.  267 


RISE,  O  DAYS,  FROM  YOUR  FATHOMLESS  DEEPS. 

BISE,  O  days,    from   your   fathomless   deeps,  till  you 

loftier,  fiercer  sweep ! 
Long  for  my  soul,  hungering  gymnastic,  I  devour'd 

what  the  earth  gave  me  ; 
Long  I  roam'd  the  woods  of  the  north — long  I  watch'd 

Niagara  pouring  ; 
I  travel'd  the  prairies  over,  and  slept  on  their  breast — 

I  cross'd  the  Nevadas,  I  cross'd  the  plateaus  ; 
I  ascended  the  towering  rocks  along  the  Pacific,  I  sail'd 

out  to  sea  ; 

I  sail'd  through  the  storm,  I  was  refresh'd  by  the  storm ; 
I  watch'd  with  joy  the  threatening  maws  of  the  waves  ; 
I  mark'd  the  white  combs  where  they  career'd  so  high, 

curling  over  ; 

I  heard  the  wind  piping,  I  saw  the  black  clouds  ; 
Saw  from  below  what  arose  and  mounted,  (O  superb !  O 

wild  as  my  heart,  and  powerful !) 
Heard  the  continuous  thunder,  as  it  bellow'd  after  the 

lightning ; 
Noted  the  slender  and  jagged  threads  of  lightning,  as 

sudden  and  fast  amid  the  din  they  chased  each 

other  across  the  sky  ; 
— These,   and  such  as  these,  I,  elate,  saw — saw  with 

wonder,  yet  pensive  and  masterful ; 
All  the  menacing  might  of  the  globe  uprisen  around 

me  ; 

Yet  there  with  my  soul  I  fed — I  fed  content,  super 
cilious. 

2 

'Twas  well,  O  soul !  'twas  a  good  preparation  you  gave 

me! 

Now  we  advance  our  latent  and  ampler  hunger  to  fill ; 
Now  we  go  forth  to  receive  what  the  earth  and  the  sea 

never  gave  us ; 
Not  through  the  mighty  woods  we  go,  but  through  the 

mightier  cities  ; 


268  LEAVES  or  GEASS. 

Something  for  us  is  pouring  now,  more  than  Niagara 

pouring ; 
Torrents  of  men,  (sources  and  rills  of  the  Northwest, 

are  you  indeed  inexhaustible  ?) 
-  What,  to  pavements  and  homesteads  here — what  were 

those  storms  of  the  mountains  and  sea  ? 
What,  to  passions  I  witness  around  me  to-day  ?    Was 

the  sea  risen? 
Was  the  wind  piping  the  pipe  of  death  under  the  black 

clouds  ? 
I^o!  from  deeps  more  unfathomable,  something  more 

deadly  and  savage ; 
Manhattan,  rising,   advancing  with  menacing  front — 

Cincinnati,  Chicago,  unchain'd  ; 
— What  was  that  swell  I  saw  on  the  ocean  ?  behold 

what  comes  here! 
How  it  climbs  with  daring  feet  and  hands!  how  it 

dashes ! 
How  the  true  thunder  bellows  after  .the  lightning !  how 

bright  the  flashes  of  lightnirg! 
How  DEMOCRACY,  with  desperate  vengeful  port  strides 

on,  shown  through  the  dark  by  those  flashes  of 

lightning ! 
(Yet  a  mournful  wail  and  low  sob  I  fancied  I  heard 

through  the  dark, 
In  a  lull  of  the  deafening  confusion.) 


3 

Thunder  on !  stride  on,  Democracy !  strike  with  venge 
ful  stroke ! 

And  do  you  rise  higher  than  ever  yet,  O  days,  O  cities ! 

Crash  heavier,  heavier  yet,  O  storms !  you  have  done  me 
good; 

My  soul,  prepared  in  the  mountains,  absorbs  your  im 
mortal  strong  nutriment ; 

— Long  had  I  walk'd  rny  cities,  my  country  roads, 
through  farms,  only  half  satisfied  ; 

One  doubt,  nauseous,  undulating  like  a  snake,  crawl'd 
on  the  ground  before  me, 


DRUM-TAPS.  269 

Continually  preceding  my  steps,  turning  upon  me  oft, 

ironically  hissing  low ; 
— The  cities  i  loved  so  well,  I  abandoii'd  and  left — I 

sped  to  the  certainties  suitable  to  me  ; 
Hungering,  hungering,  hungering,  for  primal  energies, 

and  Nature's  dauntlessness, 

I  refreshed  myself  with  it  only,  I  could  relish  it  only  ; 
I  waited  the  bursting  forth  of  the  pent  fire — on  the 

water  and  air  I  waited  long  ; 
— But  now  I  no  longer  wait — I  am  fully  satisfied — I  ani 

glutted  ; 
I  have  witness'd  the  true  lightning — I  have  witness'd 

my  cities  electric  ; 
I  have  lived  to  behold  man  burst  forth,  and  warlike 

America  rise  ; 

Hence  I  will  seek  no  more  the  food  of  the  northern  sol 
itary  wilds, 
No  more  on  the  mountains  roam,  or  sail  the  stormy  sea. 


CITY  OF  SHIPS. 

CITY  of  ships! 

(O  the  black  ships !  O  the  fierce  ships ! 

O  the  beautiful,  sharp-bow'd steam-ships  and  sail-ships!) 

City  of  the  world !  (for  all  races  are  here  ; 

All  the  lands  of  the  earth  make  contributions  here  ;) 

City  of  the  sea !  city  of  hurried  and  glittering  tides ! 

City  whose  gleeful  tides  continually  rush  or  recede, 
whirling  in  and  out,  with  eddies  and  foam ! 

City  of  wharves  and  stores !  city  of  tall  facades  of  mar 
ble  and  iron ! 

Proud  and  passionate  city !  mettlesome,  mad,  extrava 
gant  city ! 

Spring  up,  O  city !  not  for  peace  alone,  but  be  indeed 
yourself,  warlike ! 

Fear  not !  submit  to  no  models  but  your  own,  O  city ! 

Behold  me !  incarnate  me,  as  I  have  incarnated  you ! 


270  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

I  have  rejected  nothing  you   offer'd   me — whom  you 

adopted,  I  have  adopted  ; 
Good  or  bad,  I  never  question  you — I  love  all — I  do  not 

condemn  anything ; 
I  chant  and  celebrate  all  that  is  yours — yet  peace  no 

more  ; 
In  peace  I  chanted  peace,  but  now  the  drum  of  war  is 

mine; 
"War,  red  war,  is  my  song  through  your  streets,  O  city ! 


THE  CENTENARIAN'S  STORY. 
VOLUNTEER  OF  1861-2. 

(At  Washington  Park,  Brooklyn,  assisting  the  Centenarian.) 

1  GIVE  me  your  hand,  old  Revolutionary  ; 

The  hill-top  is  nigh — but  a  few  steps,  (make  room,  gen 
tlemen  ;) 

Up  the  path  you  have  follow'd  me  well,  spite  of  your 
hundred  and  extra  years  ; 

You  can  walk,  old  man,  though  your  eyes  are  almost 
done  ; 

Your  faculties  serve  you,  and  presently  I  must  have 
them  serve  me. 

2  Best,  while  I  tell  what  the  crowd  around  us  means  ; 
On  the  plain  below,  recruits  are  drilling  and  exercising; 
There  is  the  camp — one  regiment  departs  to-morrow  ; 
Do  you  hear  the  officers  giving  the  orders  ? 

Do  you  hear  the  clank  of  the  muskets? 

3  Why,  what  comes  over  you  now,  old  man? 

Why  do  you  tremble,  and  clutch  my  hand  so  convul 
sively  ? 

The  troops  are  but  drilling — they  are  yet  surrounded 
with  smiles ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  271 

Around  them,  at  hand,  the  well-drest  friends,  and  the 
women  ; 

While  splendid  and  warm  the  afternoon  sun  shines 
down  ; 

Green  the  midsummer  verdure,  and  fresh  blows  the 
dallying  breeze, 

O'er  proud  and  peaceful  cities,  and,  arm  of  the  sea  be 
tween. 

4  But  drill  and  parade  are  over — they  march  back  to 

quarters  ; 

Only  hear  that  approval  of  hands !  hear  what  a  clap 
ping! 

5  As  wending,  the  crowds  now  part  and  disperse — but 

we,  old  man, 
Not  for  nothing  have  I  brought  you  hither — we  must 

remain  ; 
You  to  speak  in  your  turn,  and  I  to  listen  and  tell. 


THE  CENTENARIAN. 

6  When  I  clutch'd  your  hand,  it  was  not  with  terror  ; 
But  suddenly,  pouring  about  me  here,  on  every  side, 
And  below  there  where  the  boys  were  drilling,  and  up 

the  slopes  they  ran, 
And  where  tents  are  pitch'd,  and  wherever  you  see, 

south  and  south-east  and  south-west, 
Over  hills,  across  lowlands,  and  in  the  skirts  of  woods, 
And  along  the  shores,  in  mire  (now  filPd  over),  came 

again,  and  suddenly  raged, 
As  eighty-five  years  a-gone,  no  mere  parade  received 

with  applause  of  friends, 
But  a  battle,  which  I  took  part  in  myself — aye,  long  ago 

as  it  is,  I  took  part  in  it, 
Walking  then  this  hill-top,  this  same  ground. 

7  Aye,  this  is  the  ground  ; 

My  blind  eyes,  even  as  I  speak,  behold  it  re-peopled 
from  graves ; 


272  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The  years  recede,  pavements  and  stately  houses  disap 
pear  ; 

Rude  forts  appear  again,  the  old  hoop'd  guns  are 
mounted ; 

I  see  the  lines  of  rais'd  earth  stretching  from  river  to 
bay; 

I  mark  the  vista  of  waters,  I  mark  the  uplands   and 

slopes  : 
Here  we  lay  encamp'd — it  was  this  time  in  summer  also. 

8  As  I  talk,  I  remember  all — I  remember  the  Declara 

tion  ; 

It  was  read  here — the  whole  army  paraded — it  was 
read  to  us  here  ; 

By  his  staff  surrounded,  the  General  stood  in  the  mid 
dle — he  held  up  his  unsheath'd  sword, 

It  glitter'd  in  the  sun  in  full  sight  of  the  army. 

9  'Twas  a  bold  act  then  ; 

The  English  war-ships  had  just  arrived — the  king  had 

sent  them  from  over  the  sea  ; 
We  could  watch  down  the  lower  bay  where  they  lay  at 

anchor, 
And  the  transports,  swarming  with  soldiers. 

10  A  few  days  more,  and  they  landed — and  then  the 

battle. 

II  Twenty  thousand  were  brought  against  us, 
A  veteran  force,  furnish'd  with  good  artillery. 

12  I  tell  not  now  the  whole  of  the  battle  ; 

But  one  brigade,  early  in  the  forenoon,  order'd  forward 

to  engage  the  red-coats  ; 

Of  that  brigade  I  tell,  and  how  steadily  it  march'd, 
And  how  long  and  how  well  it  stood,  confronting  death. 

13  Who  do  you  think  that  was,  marching  steadily,  stern 

ly  confronting  death  ? 

It  was  the  brigade  of  the  youngest  men,  two  thousand 
strong, 


DRUM-TAPS.  273 

Rais'd  in  Virginia  and  Maryland,  and  many  of  them 
known  personally  to  the  General. 

14  Jauntily  forward  they  went  with  quick  step  toward 

Gowanus'  waters  ; 
Till  of  a   sudden,  unlook'd  for,  by  denies  through  the 

woods,  gain'd  at  night, 
The  British    advancing,    wedging    in  from  the   east, 

fiercely  playing  their  guns, 
That  brigade  of  the  youngest  was  cut  off,  and  at  the 

enemy's  mercy. 

15  The  General  watch'd  them  from  this  hill ; 

They  made  repeated  desperate  attempts  to  burst  their 

environment ; 
Then   drew  close  together,   very  compact,   their  flag 

flying  in  the  middle  ; 
But  O  from  the  hills  how  the  cannon  were  thinning  and 

thinning  them ! 

16  It  sickens  me  yet,  that  slaughter ! 

I  saw  the  moisture  gather  in  drops  on  the  face  of  the 

General ; 
I  saw  how  he  wrung  his  hands  in  anguish. 

17  Meanwhile   the  British  maneuver'd  to  draw  us  out 

for  a  pitch'd  battle  ; 
But  we  dared  not  trust  the  chances  of  a  pitch'd  battle. 

8  We  fought  the  fight  in  detachments  ; 
Sallying  forth,  we  fought  at  several  points — but  in  each 

the  luck  was  against  us  ; 
Our  foe  advancing,  steadily  getting  the  best  of  it,  push'd 

us  back  to  the  works  on  this  hill ; 
Till  we  turn'd,  menacing,  here,  and  then  he  left  us. 

19  That  was  the  going  out  of  the  brigade  of  the  young 

est  men,  two  thousand  strong  ; 
Few  re  turn'd — nearly  all  remain  in  Brooklyn. 

20  That,  and  here,  my  General's  first  battle  ; 


274  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

No  women  looking  on,  nor  sunshine  to  bask  in — it  did 

not  conclude  with  applause  ; 
Nobody  clapp'd  hands  here  then. 

21  But  in  darkness,  in  mist,  on  the  ground,  under  a  chill 

rain, 

Wearied  that  night  we  lay,  foil'd  and  sullen  ; 
While  scornfully  laugh'd  many  an  arrogant  lord,  off 

against  us  encamp'd, 
Quite  within  hearing,  feasting,  klinking  wine-glasses 

together  over  their  victory. 

22  So,  dull  and  damp,  and  another  day ; 

But  the  night  of  that,  mist  lifting,  rain  ceasing, 
Silent  as  a  ghosfc,  while  they  thought  they  were  sure  of 
him,  my  General  retreated. 

23  I  saw  him  at  the  river-side, 

Down  by  the  ferry,  lit  by  torches,  hastening  the  embar- 

cation ; 
My  General  waited  till  the  soldiers  and  wounded  were 

all  pass'd  over ; 
And  then,  (it  was  just  ere  sunrise,)  these  eyes  rested  on 

him  for  the  last  time. 

24  Every  one  else  seem'd  fill'd  with  gloom  ; 
Many  no  doubt  thought  of  capitulation. 

25  But  when  my  General  pass'd  me, 

As  he  stood  in  his  boat,  and  look'd  toward  the  coming 

sun, 
I  saw  something  different  from  capitulation. 

TERMINUS. 

26  Enough — the  Centenarian's  story  ends  ; 

The  two,  the  past  and  present,  have  interchanged  ; 
I  myself,  as  connecter,  as  chansonnier  of  a  great  future, 
am  now  speaking. 


DRUM-TAPS.  275 

27  And  is  this  the  ground  Washington  trod  ? 

And  these  waters  I  listlessly  daily  cross,  are  these  the 

waters  he  cross'd, 
As  resolute  in  defeat,  as  other  generals  in  their  proudest 

triumphs  ? 

28  It  is  well — a  lesson  like  that,  always  comes  good  ; 

I  must  copy  the  story,  and  send  it  eastward  and  west 
ward  ; 

I  must  preserve  that  look,  as  it  beam'd  on  you,  rivers 
of  Brooklyn. 

29  See!   as  the  annual  round  returns,  the  phantoms 

return  ; 

It  is  the  27th  of  August,  and  the  British  have  landed  ; 
The  battle  begins,  and  goes  against  us — behold !  through 

the  smoke,  Washington's  face  ; 
The  brigade  of  Virginia  and  Maryland  have  march'd 

forth  to  intercept  the  enemy ; 
They  are  cut  off — murderous  artillery  from  the  hills 

plays  upon  them ; 
Eank  after  rank  falls,  while  over  them  silently  droops 

the  flag, 
Baptized  that   day  in  many  a  young  man's  bloody 

wounds, 
In  death,  defeat,  and  sisters',  mothers'  tears. 


30  Ah,  hills  and  slopes  of  Brooklyn  !  I  perceive  you  are 

more  valuable  than  your  owners  supposed  ; 
Ah,  river  !  henceforth  you  will  be  illumin'd  to  me  at 
sunrise  with  something  besides  the  sun. 

31  Encampments  new  1  in  the  midst  of  you  stands  an 

encampment  very  old  ; 
Stands  forever  the  camp  of  the  dead  brigade. 


276  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 


An  Army  Corps  on  the  March. 


WITH  its  cloud  of  skirmishers  in  advance, 

With  now  the  sound  of  a  single  shot,  snapping  like  a 

whip,  and  now  an  irregular  volley, 
The  swarming  ranks  press  on  and  on,  the  dense  brigades 

press  on  ; 
Glittering  dimly,  toiling  under  the  sun — the  dust-cover'd 

men, 
In   columns   rise   and  fall  to  the  undulations  of  the 

ground, 
With   artillery  interspers'd — the   wheels    rumble,   the 

horses  sweat, 
As  the  army  corps  advances. 


Cavalry  Crossing  a  Ford. 

A  LINE  in  long  array,  where  they  wind  betwixt  green 

islands  ; 
They  take  a  serpentine  course — their  arms  flash  in  the 

sun — Hark  to  the  musical  clank  ; 
Behold  the  silvery  river — in  it  the  splashing  horses, 

loitering,  stop  to  drink  ; 
Behold  the  brown-faced  men — each  group,  each  person, 

a  picture — the  negligent  rest  on  the  saddles  ; 
Some  emerge  on  the  opposite  bank — others  are  just 

entering  the  ford— while, 
Scarlet,  and  blue,  and  snowy  white, 
The  guidon  flags  flutter  gaily  in  the  wind. 


DRUM-TAPS.  277 


iivouac  on  a  Mountain  Side. 

3  before  me  now,  a  traveling  army  halting  ; 

Bel[»w,    a   fertile  valley  spread,  with   barns,  and  the 

orchards  of  summer ; 

ind,  the  terraced  sides  of  a  mountain,  abrupt  in 
places,  rising  high  ; 

Broken,  with  rocks,  with    clinging    cedars,  with   tall 
shapes,  dingily  seen  ; 

The  numerous  camp-fires  scattered  near  and  far,  some 
away  up  on  the  mountain  ; 

The  shadowy  forms  of  men  and  horses,  looming,  large- 
sized,  nickering  ; 

And  over  all,  the  sky — the  sky!  far,  far  out  of  reach, 
studded,  breaking  out,  the  eternal  stars. 


By  the  Bivouac's  Fitful  Flame. 

BY  the  bivouac's  fitful  flame, 

A  procession  winding  around  me,  solemn  and  sweet  and 

slow  ; — but  first  I  note, 
The  tents  of  the  sleeping  army,  the  fields'  and  woods' 

dim  outline, 

The  darkness,  lit  by  spots  of  kindled  fire — the  silence  ; 
Like  a  phantom  far  or  near  an  occasional  figure  moving  ; 
The  shrubs  and  trees,  (as  I  left  my  eyes  they  seem  to 

be  stealthily  watching  me  ;) 
While  wind  in    procession   thoughts,    O  tender  and 

wondrous  thoughts, 
Of  life  and  death — of  home  and  the  past   and  loved, 

and  of  those  that  are  far  away  ; 
A  solemn  and  slow  procession  there  as  I  sit  on  the 

ground, 
By  the  bivouac's  fitful  flame. 


278  LEAVES 


Come  Up  from  the  Fields,  Father. 


1  COME  up  from  the  fields,  father,  here's  a  letter  from 

our  Pete  ; 

And  come  to  the  front  door,  mother — here's  a  letter 
from  thy  dear  son. 

2 

2  Lo,  'tis  autumn  ; 

Lo,  where  the  trees,  deeper  green,  yellower  and  redder, 
Cool  and  sweeten  Ohio's  villages,  with  leaves  fluttering 

in  the  moderate  wind  ; 
Where  apples  ripe  in  the  orchards  hang,  and  grapes  on 

the  trellis' d  vines  ; 

(Smell  you  the  smell  of  the  grapes  on  the  vines  ? 
Smell  you  the  buckwheat,  where  the  bees  were  lately 

buzzing  ?) 

3  Above  all,  lo,  the  sky,  so  calm,  so  transparent  after 

the  rain,  and  with  wondrous  clouds  ; 
Below,  too,  all  calm,  all  vital  and  beautiful — and  the 
farm  prospers  well. 

8 

4  Down  in  the  fields  all  prospers  well ; 

But  now  from  the  fields  come,  father — come   at  the 

daughter's  call ; 
And  come  to  the  entry,  mother — to  the  front  door  come, 

right  away. 

6  Fast  as  she  can  she  hurries — something  ominous — 

her  steps  trembling ; 
She  does  not  tarry  to  smooth  her  hair,  nor  adjust  her 

cap. 

6  Open  the  envelope  quickly  ; 


DKUM-TAPS.  279 

O  this  is  not  our  son's  writing,  yet  his  name  is  sign'd  ; 
O  a  strange  hand  writes  for  our  dear  son — 0  stricken 

mother's  soul ! 
All  swims  before  her   eyes — flashes   with   black — she 

catches  the  main  words  only  ; 
Sentences  broken — gun-shot  wound  in  the  breast,  cavalry 

skirmish,  taken  to  hospital, 
At  present  low,  but  will  soon  be  better. 


7  Ah,  now  the  single  figure  to  me, 

Amid  all  teeming  and  wealthy  Ohio,  with  all  its  cities 

and  farms, 

Sickly  white  in  the  face,  and  dull  in  the  head,  very  faint, 
By  the  jamb  of  a  door  leans. 

8  Grieve  not  so,   dear  mother,  (the  just-grown  daughter 

speaks  through  her  sobs  ; 
The  little  sisters  huddle  around,  speechless  and  dis- 

may'd  ;) 
See,  dearest  mother,  the  letter  says  Pete  will  soon  be  better. 


9  Alas,  poor  boy,  he  will  never  be  better,  (nor  may-be 

needs  to  be  better,  that  brave  and  simple  soul ;) 
While  they  stand   at  home  at  the   door,  he  is  dead 

already ; 
The  only  son  is  dead. 

10  But  the  mother  needs  to  be  better  ; 

She,  with  thin  form,  presently  drest  in  black  ; 

By  day  her    meals    untouch'd — then  at  night  fitfully 

sleeping,  often  waking, 
In  the  midnight  waking,  weeping,  longing  with  one  deep 

longing, 
O  that  she  might  withdraw  unnoticed — silent  from  life, 

escape  and  withdraw, 
To  follow,  to  seek,  to  be  with  her  dear  dead  son. 


280  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

VIGIL  STRANGE  I  KEPT  ON  THE  FIELD  ONE 
NIGHT. 

VIGIL  strange  I  kept  on  the  field  one  night : 

When  you,  my  son  and  my  comrade,  dropt  at  my  side 

that  day, 
One  look  I  but  gave,  which  your  dear  eyes  return'd, 

with  a  look  I  shall  never  forget  ; 
One  touch  of  your  hand  to  mine,  O  boy,  reach'd  up  us 

you  lay  on  the  ground; 
Then  onward  I  sped  in  the  battle,  the  even-contested 

battle  ; 
Till  late  in  the  night  relieved,  to  the  place  at  last  again  I 

made  my  way ; 
Found  you  in  death  so  cold,  dear  comrade — found  your 

body,  son  of  responding  kisses,  (never  again  on 

earth  responding  ;) 
Bared  your  face  in  the  starlight — curious  the  scene — 

cool  blew  the  moderate  night-wind  ; 
Long  there  and  then  in  vigil  I  stood,  dimly  around  me 

the  battle-field  spreading  ; 
Vigil  wondrous  and  vigil  sweet,  there  in  the  fragrant 

silent  night ; 
But  not  a  tear  fell,  not  even  a  long-drawn  sigh — Long, 

long  I  gazed  ; 
Then  on  the  earth  partially  reclining,  sat  by  your  side, 

leaning  my  chin  in  my  hands  ; 
Passing  sweet  hours,  immortal  and  mystic  hours  with 

you,  dearest  comrade — Not  a  tear,  not  a  word  ; 
Vigil  of  silence,  love  and  death — vigil  for  you,  my  son 

and  my  soldier, 

As  onward  silently  stars  aloft,  eastward  new  ones  up 
ward  stole  ; 
Vigil  final  for  you,  brave  boy,  (I  could  not  save  you, 

swift  was  your  death, 
I  faithfully  loved  you  and  cared  for  you  living — I  think 

we  shall  surely  meet  again  ;) 
Till  at  latest  lingering  of  the  night,  indeed  just  as  the 

dawn  appear'd, 
My  comrade  I  wrapt  in  his  blanket,  envelop'd  well  his 

form, 


DRUM-TAPS.  281 

Folded  the  blanket  well,  tucking  it  carefully  over  head, 

and  carefully  under  feet ; 
And  there  and  then,  and  bathed  by  the  rising  sun,  my 

son  in  his  grave,  in  his  rude-dug  grave  I  de 
posited  ; 
Ending  my  vigil  strange  with  that — vigil  of  night  and 

battle-field  dim  ; 
Vigil  for  boy  of  responding  kisses,  (never  again  on  earth 

responding ;) 
Vigil  for  comrade  swiftly  slain — vigil  I  never  forget, 

how  as  day  brighten'd, 
I  rose  from  the  chill  ground,  and  folded  my  soldier  well 

in  his  blanket, 
And  buried  him  where  he  fell. 


A  MARCH  IN  THE  RANKS  HARD-PREST,  AND 
THE  ROAD  UNKNOWN. 

A  MARCH  in  the  ranks  hard-prest,  and  the  road  unknown; 
A  route  through  a  heavy  wood,  with  muffled  steps  in 

the  darkness ; 
Our  army  foil'd  with  loss  severe,  and  the  sullen  remnant 

retreating ; 
Till  after  midnight  glimmer  upon  us,  the  lights  of  a 

dim-lighted  building  ; 
We  come  to  an  open  space  in  the  woods,  and  halt  by 

the  dim-lighted  building ; 
'Tis  a  large  old  church  at  the  crossing  roads — 'tis  now 

an  impromptu  hospital ; 
— Entering  but  for  a  minute,  I  see  a  sight  beyond  all 

the  pictures  and  poems  ever  made  : 
Shadows  of  deepest,  deepest  black,  just  lit  by  moving 

candles  and  lamps, 
And  by  one  great  pitchy  torch,  stationary,  with  wild  red 

flame,  and  clouds  of  smoke  ; 
By  these,  crowds,  groups  of  forms,  vaguely  I  see,  on  the 

floor,  some  in  the  pews  laid  down  ; 


282  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

At  my  feet  more  distinctly,  a  soldier,  a  mere  lad,  in 

danger  of  bleeding  to  death,  (he  is  shot  in  the 

abdomen  ;) 
I  staunch  the  blood  temporarily,  (the  youngster's  face 

is  white  as  a  lily ;) 
Then  before  I  depart  I  sweep  my  eyes  o'er  the  scene, 

fain  to  absorb  it  all ; 
Faces,  varieties,  postures  beyond  description,  most  in 

obscurity,  some  of  them  dead  ; 
Surgeons  operating,  attendants  holding  lights,  the  smell 

of  ether,  the  odor  of  blood  ; 
The  crowd,  O  the  crowd  of  the  bloody  forms  of  soldiers 

— the  yard  outside  also  fiil'd  ; 
Some  on  the  bare  ground,  some  on  planks  or  stretchers, 

some  in  the  death-spasm  sweating ; 
An  occasional  scream  or  cry,  the  doctor's  shouted  orders 

or  calls  ; 
The  glisten  of  the  little  steel  instruments  catching  the 

glint  of  the  torches  ; 
These  I  resume  as  I  chant — I  see  again  the  forms,  I 

smell  the  odor ; 
Then  hear  outside  the  orders  given,  Fall  in,  my  men, 

Fall  in  ; 
But  first  I  bend  to  the  dying  lad — his  eyes  open — a 

half-smile  gives  he  me  ; 
Then  the  eyes  close,  calmly  close,  and  I  speed  forth  to 

the  darkness, 
Eesuming,  marching,  ever  in  darkness  marching,  on  in 

the  ranks, 
The  unknown  road  still  marching. 


A  SIGHT  IN  CAMP  IN  THE  DAY-BREAK  GREY 
AND  DIM. 

1  A  SIGHT  in  camp  in  the  day-break  grey  and  dim, 
As  from  my  tent  I  emerge  so  early,  sleepless, 
As  slow  I  walk  in  the  cool  fresh  air,  the  path  near  by 
the  hospital  tent, 


DRUM-TAPS.  283 

Three  forms  I  see  on   stretchers   lying,  brought   out 

there,  untended  lying, 
Over  each  the  blanket  spread,  ample  brownish  woollen 

blanket, 
Grey  and  heavy  blanket,  folding,  covering  all. 

2  Curious,  I  halt,  and  silent  stand  ; 

Then  with  light  fingers  I  from  the  face  of  the  nearest, 

the  first,  just  lift  the  blanket : 
"Who  are  you,  elderly  man  so  gaunt  and  grim,  with  well- 

grey'd  hair,  and  flesh  all  sunken  about  the  eyes? 
Who  are  you,  my  dear  comrade  ? 

3  Then  to  the  second  I  step — And  who  are  you,  my 

child  and  darling  ? 
Who  are  you,  sweet  boy,  with  cheeks  yet  blooming  ? 

4  Then  to  the  third — a  face  nor  child,  nor  old,  very 

calm,  as  of  beautiful  yellow-white  ivory  ; 
Young  man,  I  think  I  know  you — I  think  this  face  of 

yours  is  the  face  of  the  Christ  himself  ; 
Dead  and  divine,  and  brother  of  all,  and  here  again  he 

lies. 


NOT  THE  PILOT. 

NOT  the  pilot  has  charged  himself  to  bring  his  ship 

into  port,  though  beaten  back,  and  many  times 

baffled  ; 
Not   the  path-finder,  penetrating  inland,  weary  and 

long, 
By  deserts  parch'd,  snows-chilTd,  rivers  wet,  perseveres 

till  he  reaches  his  destination, 
More  than  I  have  charged  myself,  heeded  or  unheeded, 

to  compose  a  free  march  for  These  States, 
To  be  exhilarating  music  to  them — a  battle-call,  rousing 

to  arms,  if  need  be — years,  centuries  hence. 


284  LEAVES  OF  GEAS:. 


As  TOILSOME  I  WANDER'D  VIRGINIA'S  WOODS. 

1  As  TOILSOME  I  wander'd  Virginia's  woods, 
To  the  music  of  rustling  leaves,  kick'd  by  my  feet,  (for 
'twas  autumn,) 

1  niark'd  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  the  grave  of  a  soldier, 
Mortally  wounded  he,  and  buried  on  the  retreat,  (easily 

all  could  I  understand  ;) 
The  halt  of  a  mid-day  hour,  when  up !  no  time  to  lose 

— yet  this  sign  left, 

On  a  tablet  scrawl'd  and  nail'd  on  the  tree  by  the  grave, 
Bold,  cautious,  true,  and  my  loving  comrade. 

2  Long,  long  I  muse,  then  on  my  way  go  wandering  ; 
Many  a  changeful  season  to  follow,  and  many  a  scene 

of  life ; 

Yet  at  times  through  changeful  season  and  scene,  ab 
rupt,  alone,  or  in  the  crowded  street, 

Comes  before  me  the  unknown  soldier's  grave — comes 
the  inscription  rude  in  Virginia's  woods, 

Bold,  cautious,  true,  and  my  loving  comrade. 


Year  that  Trembled  and  Reel'd  Beneath  Me. 

YEAE  that  trembled  and  reel'd  beneath  me ! 

Your  summer  wind  was  warm  enough — yet  the  air  I 
breathed  froze  me  ; 

A  thick  gloom  fell  through  the  sunshine  and  darken'd 
me  ; 

Must  I  change  my  triumphant  songs  ?  said  I  to  my 
self  ; 

Must  I  indeed  learn  to  chant  the  cold  dirges  of  the  baf 
fled? 

And  sullen  hymns  of  defeat  ? 


DRUM-TAPS.  285 

THE  DRESSER. 
1 

1  AN  old  man  bending,  I  conie,  among  new  faces, 
Tears  looking  backward,  resuming,  in  answer  to  chil 
dren, 

Come  tell  us,  old  man,  as  from  young  men  and  maidens 

that  love  me  ; 
Years  hence  of  these  scenes,  of  these  furious  passions, 

these  chances, 
Of  unsurpass'd  heroes,  (was  one  side  so  brave?  the 

other  was  equally  brave  ;) 
Now  be  witness  again — paint  the  mightiest  armies  of 

earth  ; 
Of  those  armies  so  rapid,  so  wondrous,  what  saw  you  to 

tell  us? 
What  stays  with  you  latest  and  deepest?   of  curious 

panics, 
Of  hard-fought  engagements,   or  sieges  tremendous, 

what  deepest  remains  ? 

2 

2  O  maidens  and  young  men  I  love,  and  that  love  me, 
What  you  ask  of  my  days,  those  the  strangest  and 

sudden  your  talking  recalls  ; 

Soldier  alert  I  arrive,  after  a  kmg  march,  cover'd  with 
sweat  and  dust ; 

In  the  nick  of  time  I  come,  plunge  in  the  fight,  loudly 
shout  in  the  rush  of  successful  charge  ; 

Enter  the  captur'd  works  ....  yet  lo !  like  a  swift- 
running  river,  they  fade  ; 

Pass  and  are  gone,  they  fade — I  dwell  not  on  soldiers' 
perils  or  soldiers'  joys  ; 

(Both  I  remember  well — many  the  hardships,  few  the 
joys,  yet  I  was  content.) 

3  But  in  silence,  in  dreams'  projections, 

While  the  world  of  gain  and  appearance  and  mirth  goes 


286  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

So  soon  what  is  over  forgotten,  and  waves  wash  the 

imprints  off  the  sand, 
In  nature's  reverie  sad,  with  hinged  knees  returning,  I 

enter  the  doors — (while  for  you  up  there, 
Whoever  you  are,  follow  me  without  noise,  and  be  of 

strong  heart.) 

3 

4  Bearing  the  bandages,  water  and  sponge, 
Straight  and  swift  to  my  wounded  I  go, 

Where  they  lie  on  the  ground,  after  the  battle  brought 

in; 
Where   their   priceless  blood  reddens  the  grass,  the 

ground  ; 
Or  to  the  rows  of  the  hospital  tent,  or  under  the  roof 'd 

hospital ; 
To  the  long  rows  of  cots,  up  and  down,  each  side,  I 

return  ; 
To  each  and  all,  one  after  another,  I  draw  near — not 

one  do  I  miss  ; 
An  attendant  follows,  holding  a  tray — he  carries  a  refuse 

pail, 
Soon  to  be  fill'd  with  clotted  rags  and  blood,  emptied, 

and  fill'd  again. 

5  I  onward  go,  I  stop, 

With  hinged  knees  and  steady  hand,  to  dress  wounds  ; 

I  am  firm  with  each — the  pangs  are  sharp,  yet  unavoid 
able  ; 

One  turns  to  me  his  appealing  eyes — (poor  boy!  I 
never  knew  you, 

Yet  I  think  I  could  not  refuse  this  moment  to  die  for 
you,  if  that  would  save  you.) 


6  On,  on  I  go — (open,  doors  of  time !   open,  hospital 

doors !) 
The  crush'd  head  I  dress,  (poor  crazed  hand,  tear  not 

the  bandage  away ;) 
The  neck  of  the  cavalry-man,  with  the  bullet  through 

and  through,  I  examine  ; 


DEUM-TAPS.  287 

Hard  the  breathing  rattles,  quite  glazed  already  the 

eye,  yet  life  struggles  hard  ; 

(Come,  sweet  death !  be  persuaded,  O  beautiful  death ! 
In  mercy  come  quickly.) 

7  From  the  stump  of  the  arm,  the  amputated  hand, 

I  undo  the  clotted  lint,  remove  the  slough,  wash  off  the 

matter  and  blood ; 
Back  on  his  pillow  the  soldier  bends,  with  curv'd  neck, 

and  side-falling  head ; 
His  eyes  are  closed,  his  face  is  pale,  (he  dares  not  look 

on  the  bloody  stump, 
And  has  not  yet  look'd  on  it.) 

8  I  dress  a  wound  in  the  side,  deep,  deep  ; 

But  a  day  or  two  more — for  see,  the  frame  all  wasted 

already,  and  sinking, 
And  the  yellow-blue  countenance  see. 

9  I  dress  the  perforated  shoulder,  the  foot  with  the  bul 

let  wound, 
Cleanse  the  one  with  a  gnawing  and  putrid  gangrene, 

so  sickening,  so  offensive, 
While  the  attendant  stands  behind  aside  me,  holding 

the  tray  and  pail. 

10  I  am  faithful,  I  do  not  give  out ; 

The  fractured  thigh,  the  knee,  the  wound  in  the  abdo 
men, 

These  and  more  I  dress  with  impassive  hand — (yet  deep 
in  my  breast  a  fire,  a  burning  flame.) 

5 

1  Thus  in  silence,  in  dreams'  projections, 
Returning,  resuming,  I  thread  my  way  through  the 

hospitals  ; 

The  hurt  and  wounded  I  pacify  with  soothing  hand, 
I  sit  by  the  restless  all  the  dark  night — some  are  so 

young ; 
Some  suffer  so  much — I  recall  the  experience  sweet  and 

sad  ; 
(Many  a  soldier's  loving  arms  about  this  neck  have 

cross'd  and  rested, 
Many  a  soldier's  kiss  dwells  on  these  bearded  lips.) 


288  LEAVES  OE  GRASS. 


LONG,  TOO  LONG,  O  LAND. 

LONG,  too  long,  O  land, 

Traveling  roads  all  even  and  peaceful,  you  learn'd  from 
joys  and  prosperity  only  ; 

But  now,  ah  now,  to  learn  from  crises  of  anguish — ad 
vancing,  grappling  with  direst  fate,  and  recoiling 
not; 

And  now  to  conceive,  and  show  to  the  world,  what  your 
children  en-masse  really  are  ; 

(For  who  except  myself  has  yet  conceiv'd  what  your 
children  en-masse  really  are  ?) 


GIVE  ME  THE  SPLENDID  SILENT  SUN. 


GIVE  me  the  splendid  silent  sun,  with  all  his  beams  full- 
dazzling  ; 

Give  me  juicy  autumnal  fruit,  ripe  and  red  from  the 
orchard ; 

Give  mo  a  field  where  the  unmow'd  grass  grows  ; 

Give  me  an  arbor,  give  me  the  trellis'd  grape  ; 

Give  me  fresh  corn  and  wheat — give  me  serene-moving 
animals,  teaching  content ; 

Give  me  nights  perfectly  quiet,  as  on  high  plateaus 
west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  I  looking  up  at  the 
stars  ; 

Give  me  odorous  at  sunrise  a  garden  of  beautiful  flow 
ers,  where  I  can  walk  undisturb'd  ; 

Give  me  for  marriage  a  sweet-breath'd  woman,  of  whom 
I  should  never  tire  ; 

Give  me  a  perfect  child — give  me,  away,  aside  from  the 
noise  of  the  world,  a  rural  domestic  life  ; 

Give  me  to  warble  spontaneous  songs,  reliev'd,  recluse 
by  myself,  for  my  own  ears  only ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  289 

Give  me  solitude — give  me  Nature — give  me  again,  O 

Nature,  your  primal  sanities ! 

— These,  demanding  to  have  them,  (tired  with  cease 
less  excitement,  and  rack'd  by  the  war-strife  ;) 
These  to  procure,  incessantly  asking,  rising  in   cries 

from  my  heart, 

While  yet  incessantly  asking,  still  I  adhere  to  my  city  ; 
Day  upon  day,  and  year  upon  year,  O  city,  walking  your 

streets, 
Where  you  hold  me  enchain 'd  a  certain  time,  refusing 

to  give  me  up  ; 
Yet  giving  to  make  me  glutted,  enrich'd  of  soul — you 

give  me  forever  faces  ; 
(O  I  see  what  I  sought  to  escape,  confronting,  reversing 

my  cries  ; 
I  see  my  own  soul  trampling  down  what  it  ask'd  for.) 

2 

Keep  your  splendid,  silent  sun  ; 

Keep  your  woods,  O  Nature,  and  the  quiet  places  by 
the  woods  ; 

Keep  your  fields  of  clover  and  timothy,  and  your  corn 
fields  and  orchards ; 

Keep  the  blossoming  buckwheat  fields,  where  the  Ninth- 
month  bees  hum  ; 

Give  me  faces  and  streets !  give  me  these  phantoms  in 
cessant  and  endless  along  the  trottoirs ! 

Give  me  interminable  eyes !  give  me  women !  give  me 
comrades  and  lovers  by  the  thousand  ! 

Let  me  see  new  ones  every  day !  let  me  hold  new  ones 
by  the  hand  every  day ! 

Give  me  such  shows !  give  me  the  streets  of  Manhat 
tan! 

Give  me  Broadway,  with  the  soldiers  marching — give 
me  the  sound  of  the  trumpets  and  drums ! 

(The  soldiers  in  companies  or  regiments — some,  start 
ing  away,  flush'd  and  reckless  ; 

Some,  their  time  up,  returning,  with  thinn'd  ranks — 
young,  yet  very  old,  worn,  marching,  noticing 
nothing ;) 

13 


290  LEAVES  OF  GBASS. 

— Give  me  the  shores  and  the  wharves  heavy-fringed 

with  the  black  ships  ! 
O  such  for  me !  O  an  intense  life  !  O  full  to  repletion, 

and  varied ! 

The  life  of  the  theatre,  bar-room,  huge  hotel,  for  me ! 
The  saloon  of  the  steamer !  the  crowded  excursion  for 

me  !  the  torch-light  procession  ! 
The  dense  brigade,  bound  for  the  war,  with  high  piled 

military  wagons  following  ; 
People,  endless,  streaming,  with  strong  voices,  passions, 


Manhattan  streets,  with  their  powerful  throbs,  with  the 

beating  drums,  as  now ; 
The  endless  and  noisy  chorus,  the  rustle  and  clank  of 

muskets,  (even  the  sight  of  the  wounded ;) 
Manhattan  crowds,  with  their  turbulent  musical  chorus 

— with  varied  chorus,  and  light  of  the  sparkling 

eyes; 
Manhattan  faces  and  eyes  forever  for  me. 


DIRGE  FOR  Two  VETERANS. 

i 

THE  last  sunbeam 

Lightly  falls  from  the  finish'd  Sabbath, 
On  the  pavement  here — and  there  beyond,  it  is  looking, 

Down  a  new-made  double  grave. 


Lo !  the  moon  ascending ! 
Up  from  the  east,  the  silvery  round  moon  ; 
Beautiful  over  the  house-tops,  ghastly,  phantom  moon  ; 

Immense  and  silent  moon. 

3 

I  see  a  sad  procession, 
And  I  hear  the  sound  of  coming  full-key'd  bugles  ; 


DRUM-TAPS.  291 

AH  the  channels  of  the  city  streets  they're  flooding, 
As  with  voices  and  with  tears. 


I  hear  the  great  drums  pounding. 
And  the  small  drums  steady  whirring  ; 
And  every  blow  of  the  great  convulsive  drums, 

Strikes  me  through  and  through. 


For  the  son  is  brought  with  the  father  ; 
In  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  fierce  assault  they  fell ; 
Two  veterans,  son  and  father,  dropt  together, 

And  the  double  grave  awaits  them. 


Now  nearer  blow  the  bugles, 
And  the  drums  strike  more  convulsive  ; 
And  the  day-light  o'er  the  pavement  quite  has  faded, 

And  the  strong  dead-march  enwraps  me. 


In  the  eastern  sky  up-buoying, 
The  sorrowful  vast  phantom  moves  illumin'd  ; 
('Tis  some  mother's  large,  transparent  face, 

In  heaven  brighter  growing.) 


O  strong  dead-march,  you  please  me  ! 
O  moon  immense,  with  your  silvery  face  you  soothe  me ! 
O  my  soldiers  twain  !  O  my  veterans,  passing  to  burial ! 

What  I  have  I  also  give  you. 


The  moon  gives  you  light, 
And  the  bugles  and  the  drums  give  you  music  ; 
And  my  heart,  O  my  soldiers,  my  veterans, 

My  heart  gives  you  love. 


292  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


OVER  THE  CARNAGE  ROSE  PROPHETIC  A  VOICE. 

1  OVER  the  carnage  rose  prophetic  a  voice, 

Be  not  dishearten'd — Affection  shall  solve  the  problems 

of  Freedom  yet ; 
Those  who  love  each  other  shall  become  invincible — 

they  shall  yet  make  Columbia  victorious. 

2  Sons  of  the  Mother  of  All !  you  shall  yet  be  victo 

rious  ! 

You  shall  yet  laugh  to  scorn  the  attacks  of  all  the  re 
mainder  of  the  earth. 

3  No  danger  shall  balk  Columbia's  lovers  ; 

If  need  be,  a  thousand  shall  sternly  immolate  them 
selves  for  one. 

4  One  from  Massachusetts  shall  be  a  Missourian's  com 

rade  ; 
From  Maine  and  from  hot  Carolina,  and  another,  an 

Oregonese,  shall  be  friends  triune, 
More  precious  to  each  other  than  all  the  riches  of  the 

earth. 

6  To  Michigan,  Florida  perfumes  shall  tenderly  come  ; 
Not  the  perfumes  of  flowers,  but  sweeter,  and  wafted 
beyond  death. 

6  It  shall  be  customary  in  the  houses  and  streets  to  see 

manly  affection  ; 
The  most  dauntless  and  rude  shall  touch  face  to  face 

lightly; 

The  dependence  of  Liberty  shall  be  lovers, 
The  continuance  of  Equality  shall  be  comrades. 

7  These  shall  tie  you  and  band  you  stronger  than  hoops 

of  iron  ; 

I,  extatic,  O  partners !  0  lands !  with  the  love  of  lovers 
tie  you. 


DRUM-TAPS.  293 

8  (Were  you  looking  to  be  held  together  by  the  lawyers? 
Or  by  an  agreement  on  a  paper  ?  or  by  arms  ? 

— nor  the  world,  nor  any  living  thing,  will  so 

cohere.) 


THE  ARTILLERYMAN'S  VISION. 

WHILE  my  wife  at  my  side  lies  slumbering,  and  the  wars 

are  over  long, 

And  my  head  on  the  pillow  rests  at  home,  and  the  va 
cant  midnight  passes, 
And  through  the  stillness,  through  the  dark,  I  hear, 

just  hear,  the  breath  of  my  infant, 
There  in  the  room,  as  I  wake  from  sleep,  this  vision 

presses  upon  me  : 

The  engagement  opens  there  and  then,  in  fantasy  unreal; 
The  skirmishers  begin — they  crawl  cautiously  ahead — 

I  hear  the  irregular  snap !  snap ! 
I  hear  the  sounds  of  the  different  missiles — the  short 

t-h-t !  t-h-t !  of  the  rifle  balls  ; 
I  see  the  shells  exploding,  leaving  small  white  clouds — 

I  hear  the  great  shells  shrieking  as  they  pass  ; 
The  grape,  like  the  hum  and  whirr  of  wind  through  the 

trees,  (quick,  tumultuous,  now  the  contest  rages !) 
All  the  scenes  at  the  batteries  themselves  rise  in  detail 

before  ine  again  ; 
The  crashing  and  smoking — the  pride  of  the  men  in 

their  pieces  ; 

The  chief  gunner  ranges  and  sights  his  piece,  and  se 
lects  a  fuse  of  the  right  time  ; 
After  firing,  I  see  him  lean  aside,  and  look  eagerly  off 

to  note  the  effect ; 
— Elsewhere  I  hear  the  cry  of  a  regiment  charging — 

(the  young  colonel  leads  himself  this  time,  with 

brandish'd  sword ;) 
I  see  the  gaps  cut  by  the  enemy's  volleys,  (quickly 

filTd  up,  no  delay  ;) 


294  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  breathe  the  suffocating  smoke — then  the  flat  clouds 

hover  low,  concealing  all ; 
Now  a  strange  lull  comes  for  a  few  seconds,  not  a  shot 

fired  on  either  side  ; 
Then  resumed,  the  chaos  louder  than  ever,  with  eager 

calls,  and  orders  of  officers  ; 
While  from  some  distant  part  of  the  field  the  wind  wafts 

to  my  ears  a  shout  of  applause,  (some  special 

success ;) 
And  ever  the  sound  of  the  cannon,  far  or  near,  (rousing, 

even  in  dreams,  a  devilish  exultation,  and  all  the 

old  mad  joy,  in  the  depths  of  my  soul ;) 
And  ever  the  hastening  of  infantry  shifting  positions — 

batteries,  cavalry,  moving  hither  and  thither  ; 
(The  falling,  dying,  I  heed  not — the  wounded,  dripping 

and  red,  I  heed  not — some  to  the  rear  are  hob 
bling  ;) 
Grime,  heat,  rush — aid-de-camps  galloping  by,  or  on  a 

full  run; 
With  the  patter  of  small  arms,  the  warning  s-s-t  of  the 

rifles,  (these  in  my  vision  I  hear  or  see,) 
And  bombs  bursting  in  air,   and  at  night  the  vari- 

color'd  rockets. 


I   SAW  OLD  GENERAL  AT  BAY. 

I  SAW  old  General  at  bay  ; 

(Old  as  he  was,  his  grey  eyes  yet  shone  out  in  battle 

like  stars  ;) 
His  small  force  was  now  completely  hemm'd  in,  in  his 

works  ; 
He  call'd  for  volunteers  to  run  the  enemy's  lines — a 

desperate  emergency ; 
I  saw  a  hundred  and  more  step  forth  from  the  ranks— 

but  two  or  three  were  selected  ; 
I  saw  them  receive  their  orders  aside — they  listen'd 

with  care — the  adjutant  was  very  grave  ; 
I  saw  them  depart  with  cheerfulness,  freely  risking  their 

lives. 


DRUM-TAPS.  295 


O  TAN-FACED  PRAIRIE-BOY. 

O  TAN-FACED  prairie-boy ! 

Before  you  came  to  camp,  came  many  a  welcome  gift ; 

Praises  and  presents  came,  and  nourishing  food — till  at 

last,  among  the  recruits, 
You  came,  taciturn,  with  nothing  to  give — we  but  look'd 

on  each  other, 
When  lo!   more  than  all  the  gifts  of  the  world,  you 

gave  me. 


LOOK  DOWN  FAIR  MOON. 

LOOK  down,  fair  moon,  and  bathe  this  scene  ; 

Pour  softly  down  night's  nimbus  floods,  on  faces  ghast 
ly,  swollen,  purple  ; 

On  the  dead,  on  their  backs,  with  their  arms  toss'd 
wide, 

Pour  down  your  unstinted  nimbus,  sacred  moon. 


RECONCILIATION. 

WORD  over  all,  beautiful  as  the  sky ! 

Beautiful  that  war,  and  all  its  deeds  of  carnage,  must 
in  time  be  utterly  lost ; 

That  the  hands  of  the  sisters  Death  and  Night,  inces 
santly  softly  wash  again,  and  ever  again,  this 
soil'd  world  : 

. . .  For  my  enemy  is  dead — a  man  divine  as  myself  is 
dead; 

I  look  where  he  lies,  white-faced  and  still,  in  the  coffin 
— I  draw  near  ; 

I  bend  down,  and  touch  lightly  with  my  lips  the  white 
face  in  the  coffin. 


296  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

SPIRIT  WHOSE  WORK  is  DONE. 

(Washington  City,  1865.) 

SPIRIT  whose  work  is  done  !  spirit  of  dreadful  hours  ! 
Ere,  departing,  fade  from  my  eyes  your  forests  of  bayo 
nets  ; 
Spirit  of  gloomiest  fears  and  doubts,  (yet  onward  ever 

unfaltering  pressing ;) 
Spirit  of  many  a  solemn  day,  and  many  a  savage  scene ! 

Electric  spirit ! 
That  with  muttering  voice,  through  the  war  now  closed, 

like  a  tireless  phantom  flitted, 
Housing  the  land  with  breath  of  flame,  while  you  beat 

and  beat  the  drum  ; 
— Now,  as  the  sound  of  the  drum,  hollow  and  harsh  to 

the  last,  reverberates  round  me  ; 
As  your  ranks,  your  immortal  ranks,  return,  return 

from  the  battles  ; 
While  the  muskets  of  the  young  men  yet  lean  over  their 

shoulders  ; 

WTiile  I  look  on  the  bayonets  bristling  over  their  shoul 
ders  ; 
While  those  slanted  bayonets,  whole  forests  of  them, 

appearing  in  the  distance,  approach  and  pass 

on,  returning  homeward, 
Moving  with  steady  motion,  swaying  to  and  fro,  to  the 

right  and  left, 
Evenly,  lightly  rising  and  falling,  as  the  steps  keep 

time  : 
— Spirit  of  hours  I  knew,  all  hectic  red  one  day,  but 

pale  as  death  next  day  ; 

Touch  my  mouth,  ere  you  depart — press  my  lips  close  ! 
Leave  me  your  pulses  of  rage !  bequeath  them  to  me ! 

fill  me  with  currents  convulsive ! 
Let  them  scorch  and  blister  out  of  my  chants,  when  you 

are  gone  ; 
Let  them  identify  you  to  the  future,  in  these  songs. 


DRUM-TAPS.  297 


How  SOLEMN,  AS  ONE  BY  ONE. 

(Washington  City,  1865.) 

How  solemn,  as  one  by  one, 

As  the  ranks  returning,  all  worn  and  sweaty — as  the 

men  file  by  where  I  stand  ; 
As  the  faces,  the  masks  appear — as  I  glance  at  the  faces, 

studying  the  masks  ; 
(As  I  glance  upward  out  of  this  page,  studying  you, 

dear  friend,  whoever  you  are  ;) 
How  solemn  the  thought  of  my  whispering  soul,  to  each 

in  the  ranks,  and  to  you  ; 

I  see  behind  each  mask,  that  wonder,  a  kindred  soul  ; 
O  the  bullet  could  never  kill  what  you  really  are,  dear 

friend, 

Nor  the  bayonet  stab  what  you  really  are  : 
. . .  The  soul !  yourself  I  see,  great  as  any,  good  as  the 

best, 
Waiting,  secure  and  content,  which  the  bullet  could 

never  kill, 
Nor  the  bayonet  stab,  O  friend ! 


Not  Youth  Pertains  to  Me. 

NOT  youth  pertains  to  me, 

Nor  delicatesse — I  cannot  beguile  the  time  with  talk  ; 
Awkward  in  the  parlor,  neither  a  dancer  nor  elegant ; 
In  the  learn'd  coterie  sitting  constrain'd  and  still — for 

learning  inures  not  to  me  ; 
Beauty,  knowledge,  inure  not  to  me — yet  there  are  two 

or  three  things  inure  to  me  ; 
I  have  nourish'd  the  wounded,  and  sooth'd  many  a 

dying  soldier, 

And  at  intervals,  waiting,  or  in  the  midst  of  camp, 
Composed  these  songs. 


298  LEAVES  OP  GRASS. 


To  THE  LEAVEN'D  SOIL  THEY  TROD. 

To  the  leaven'd  soil  they  trod,  calling,  I  sing,  for  the 

last ; 

(Not  cities,  nor  man  alone,  nor  war,  nor  the  dead, 
But  forth  from  my  tent  emerging  for  good — loosing, 

untying  the  tent-ropes  ;) 
In  the  freshness,  the  forenoon  air,  in  the  far-stretching 

circuits  and  vistas,  again  to  peace  restored, 
To  the  fiery  fields  emanative,  and  the  endless  vistas 

beyond — to  the  south  and  the  north  ; 
To  the  leaven'd  soil  of  the  general  western  world,  to 

attest  my  songs, 
(To  the  average  earth,  the  wordless  earth,  witness  of 

war  and  peace,) 

To  the  Alleghanian  hills,  and  the  tireless  Mississippi, 
To  the  rocks  I,  calling,  sing,  and  all  the  trees  in  the 

woods, 
To  the  plain  of  the  poems  of  heroes,  to  the  prairie 

spreading  wide, 
To  the  far-off  sea,  and  the  unseen  winds,  and  the  sane 

impalpable  air  ; 

. . .  And  responding,  they  answer  all,  (but  not  in  words,) 
The   average   earth,   the   witness   of   war  and   peace, 

acknowledges  mutely; 
The  prairie  draws  me  close,  as  the  father,  to  bosom 

broad,  the  son  ; 
The  Northern  ice  and  rain,  that  began  me,  nourish  me 

to  the  end ; 
But  the  hot  sun  of  the  South  is  to  ripen  my  songs. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


FACES. 


1  SAUNTERING  the  pavement,  or  riding  the  country  by 
road — lo !  such  faces ! 

Faces  of  friendship,  precision,  caution,  suavity,  ideal 
ity  ; 

The  spiritual,  prescient  face — the  always  welcome,  com 
mon,  benevolent  face, 

The  face  of  the  singing  of  music — the  grand  faces  of 
natural  lawyers  and  judges,  broad  at  the  back- 
top  ; 

The  faces  of  hunters  and  fishers,  bulged  at  the  brows 
— the  shaved  blanch'd  faces  of  orthodox  citi 
zens  ; 

The  pure,  extravagant,  yearning,  questioning  artist's 
face  ; 

The  ugly  face  of  some  beautiful  Soul,  the  handsome  de 
tested  or  despised  face ; 

The  sacred  faces  of  infants,  the  illuminated  face  of  the 
mother  of  many  children  ; 

The  face  of  an  amour,  the  face  of  veneration  ; 

The  face  as  of  a  dream,  the  face  of  an  immobile  rock  ; 

The  face  withdrawn  of  its  good  and  bad,  a  castrated 
face  ; 

A  wild  hawk,  his  wings  clipp'd  by  the  clipper ; 

A  stallion  that  yielded  at  last  to  the  thongs  and  knife 
of  the  gelder. 


300  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

2  Sauntering  the  pavement,  thus,  or  crossing  the  cease 
less  ferry,  faces,  and  faces,  and  faces  : 
I  see  them,  and  complain  not,  and  am  content  with  all. 


3  Do  you  suppose  I  could  be  content  with  all,  if  I 

thought  them  their  own  finale  ? 

4  This  now  is  too  lamentable  a  face  for  a  man  ; 
Some  abject  louse,  asking  leave  to  be — cringing  for  it ; 
Some  milk-nosed  maggot,  blessing  what  lets  it  wrig  to 

its  hole. 

6  This  face  is  a  dog's  snout,  sniffing  for  garbage  ; 
Snakes  nest  in  that  mouth — I  hear  the  sibilant  threat. 

6  This  face  is  a  haze  more  chill  than  the  arctic  sea ; 
Its  sleepy  and  wobbling  icebergs  crunch  as  they  go. 

7  This  is  a  face  of  bitter  herbs — this  an  emetic — they 

need  no  label : 

And  more  of  the  drug-shelf,  laudanum,  caoutchouc,  or 
hog's-lard. 

8  This  face  is  an  epilepsy,  its  wordless  tongue  gives  out 

the  unearthly  cry, 
Its  veins  down  the  neck  distend,  its  eyes  roll  till  they 

show  nothing  but  their  whites, 
Its  teeth  grit,  the  palms  of  the  hands  are  cut  by  the 

turn'd-in  nails, 
The  man  falls  struggling  and  foaming  to  the  ground 

while  he  speculates  well. 

9  This  face  is  bitten  by  vermin  and  worms, 

And  this  is  some  murderer's  knife,  with  a  half-pull'd 
scabbard. 

10  This  face  owes  to  the  sexton  his  dismalest  fee ; 
An  unceasing  death-bell  tolls  there. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  301 

3 

11  Those  then  are  really  men — the  bosses  and  tufts  of 

the  great  round  globe ! 

12  Features  of  my  equals,  would  you  trick  me  with  your 

creas'd  and  cadaverous  march  ? 
Well,  you  cannot  trick  me. 

13  I  see  your  rounded,  never-erased  flow  ; 

I  see  neath  the  rims  of  your  haggard  and  mean  dis 
guises. 

14  Splay  and  twist  as  you  like — poke  with  the  tangling 

fores  of  fishes  or  rats  ; 
You'll  be  unmuzzled,  you  certainly  will. 

15  I  saw  the  face  of  the  most  smear'd  and  slobbering 

idiot  they  had  at  the  asylum  ; 

And  I  knew  for  my  consolation  what  they  knew  not ; 

I  knew  of  the  agents  that  emptied  and  broke  my 
brother, 

The  same  wait  to  clear  the  rubbish  from  the  fallen  ten 
ement.  ; 

And  I  shall  look  again  in  a  score  or  two  of  ages, 

And  I  shall  meet  the  real  landlord,  perfect  and  un- 
harm'd,  every  inch  as  good  as  myself. 


16  The  Lord  advances,  and  yet  advances  ; 

Always  the  shadow  in  front — always  the  reach'd  hand, 
bringing  up  the  laggards. 

17  Out  of  this  face  emerge  banners  and  horses — O  su 

perb  !     I  see  what  is  coming ; 
I  see  the  high  pioneer-caps — I  see  the  staves  of  runners 

clearing  the  way, 
I  hear  victorious  drums. 


302  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

18  This  face  is  a  life-boat ; 

This  is  the  face  commanding  and  bearded,  it  asks  no 

odds  of  the  rest ; 

This  face  is  flavor'd  fruit,  ready  for  eating  ; 
This  face  of  a  healthy  honest  boy  is  the  programme  of 

all  good. 

19  These  faces  bear  testimony,  slumbering  or  awake  ; 
They  show  their  descent  from  the  Master  himself. 

20  Off  the  word  I  have  spoken  I  except  not  one — red, 

white,  black,  are  all  deific  ; 

In  each  house  is  the  ovum — it  comes  forth  after  a  thou 
sand  years. 

21  Spots  or  cracks  at  the  windows  do  not  disturb  me  ; 
Tall  and  sufficient  stand  behind,  and  make  signs  to  me; 
I  read  the  promise,  and  patiently  wait. 

22  This  is  a  full-grown  lily's  face, 

She  speaks  to  the  limber-hipp'd  man  near  the  garden 

pickets, 

Gome  here,  she  blushingly  cries — Come  nigh  to  me,  lim 
ber-hipp'd  man, 

Stand  at  my  side  till  I  lean  as  high  as  I  can  upon  you, 
Fill  me  with  albescent  honey,  bend  down  to  me, 
Eub  to  me  with  your  chafing  beard,  rub  to  my  breast  and 
shoulders. 


23  The  old  face  of  the  mother  of  many  children ! 
Whist!  I  am  fully  content. 

24  Lull'd  and  late  is  the  smoke  of  the  First-day  morning, 
It  hangs  low  over  the  rows  of  trees  by  the  fences, 

It  hangs  thin  by  the  sassafras,  the  wild-cherry,  and  the 
cat-brier  under  them. 

25  I  saw  the  rich  ladies  in  full  dress  at  the  soiree, 
I  heard  what  the  singers  were  singing  so  long, 


LEAVES  or  G-KASS.  303 

Heard  who  sprang  in  crimson  youth  from  the  white 
froth  and  the  water-blue. 

26  Behold  a  woman ! 

She  looks  out  from  her  quaker  cap — her  face  is  clearer 
and  more  beautiful  than  the  sky. 

27  She  sits  in  an  arm-chair,  under  the  shaded  porch  of 

the  farm-lRmse, 
The  sun  just  shines  on  her  old  white  head. 

28Her  ample  gown  is  of  cream-hued  linen, 
Her  grandsons  raised  the  flax,   and  her  granddaugh 
ters  spun  it  with  the  distaff  and  the  wheel. 

29  The  melodious  character  of  the  earth, 

The  finish  beyond  which  philosophy  cannot  go,  and 

does  not  wish  to  go, 
The  justified  mother  of  men. 


MANHATTAN'S    STREETS   I    SAUNTER'D, 
PONDERING. 

1 

1  MANHATTAN'S  streets  I  saunter'd,  pondering, 
On  time,  space,  reality — on  such  as  these,  and  abreast 
with  them,  prudence. 

2 

a  After  all,  the  last  explanation  remains  to  be  made 
about  prudence ; 

Little  and  large  alike  drop  quietly  aside  from  the  pru 
dence  that  suits  immortality. 

• 

3  The  Soul  is  of  itself  ; 

All  verges  to  it — all  has  reference  to  what  ensues  ; 

All  that  a  person  does,  says,  thinks,  is  of  consequence; 


304  LEAVES  or  GBASS. 

Not  a  move  can  a  man  or  woman  make,  that  affects 
him  or  her  in  a  day,  month,  any  part  of  the 
direct  life-time,  or  the  hour  of  death,  but  the 
same  affects  him  or  her  onward  afterward 
through  the  indirect  life-time. 

3 

4  The  indirect  is  just  as  much  as  the  direct, 

The  spirit  receives  from  the  body  just  as  much  as  it 
gives  to  the  body,  if  not  more. 

5  Not  one  word  or  deed — not  venereal  sore,  discolor 

ation,  privacy  of  the  onanist,  putridity  of  glut 
tons  or  rum-drinkers,  peculation,  cunning, 
betrayal,  murder,  seduction,  prostitution,  but 
has  results  beyond  death,  as  really  as  before 
death. 

4 

6  Charity  and  personal  force  are  the  only  investments 

worth  anything. 

7  No  specification  is  necessary — all  that  a  male  or  fe 

male  does,  that  is  vigorous,  benevolent,  clean,  is 
so  much  profit  to  him  or  her,  in  the  unshak 
able  order  of  the  universe,  and  through  the  whole 
scope  of  it,  forever. 


8  "Who  has  been  wise,  receives  interest, 

Savage,   felon,   President,    judge,   farmer,  sailor,   me 
chanic,  literat,  young,  old,  it  is  the  same, 
The  interest  will  come  round — all  will  come  round. 

9  Singly,  wholly,  to  affect  now,  affected  their  time,  will 

forever  affect,   all  of  the   past,  and  all  of   the 
present,  and  all  of  the  future, 
All  the  brave  actions  of  war  and  peace, 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  '  305 

All  help  given  to  relatives,  strangers,  the  poor,  old, 
sorrowful,  young  children,  widows,  the  sick,  and 
to  shunn'd  persons, 

All  furtherance  of  fugitives,  and  of  the  escape  of  slaves, 

All  self-denial  that  stood  steady  and  aloof  on  wrecks, 
and  saw  others  fill  the  seats  of  the  boats, 

All  offering  of  substance  or  life  for  the  good  old  cause, 
or  for  a  friend's  sake,  or  opinion's  sake, 

All  pains  of  enthusiasts,  scoff'd  at  by  their  neighbors, 

All  the  limitless  sweet  love  and  precious  suffering  of 
mothers, 

All  honest  men  baffled  in  strifes  recorded  or  unre 
corded, 

All  the  grandeur  and  good  of  ancient  nations  whose 
fragments  we  inherit, 

All  the  good  of  the  dozens  of  ancient  nations  un 
known  to  us  by  name,  date,  location, 

All  that  was  ever  manfully  begun,  whether  it  suc 
ceeded  or  no, 

All  suggestions  of  the  divine  mind  of  man,  or  the 
divinity  of  his  mouth,  or  the  shaping  of  his  great 
hands ; 

All  that  is  well  thought  or  said  this  day  on  any  part 
of  the  globe — or  on  any  of  the  wandering  stars, 
or  on  any  of  the  fix'cl  stars,  by  those  there  as 
we  are  here  ; 

All  that  is  henceforth  to  be  thought  or  done  by  you, 
whoever  you  are,  or  by  any  one  ; 

These  inure,  have  inured,  shall  inure,  to  the  identities 
from  which  they  sprang,  or  shall  spring. 
* 

6 

10  Did  you  guess  anything  lived  only  its  moment  ? 

The  world  does  not  so  exist — no  parts  palpable  or  im 
palpable  so  exist ; 

No  consummation  exists  without  being  from  some 
long  previous  consummation — and  that  from 
some  other, 

Without  the  farthest  conceivable  one  coming  a  bit 
nearer  the  beginning  than  any. 


306  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


1  Whatever  satisfies  Souls  is  true  ; 
Prudence   entirely   satisfies   the   craving  and  glut   of 

Souls ; 

Itself  only  finally  satisfies  the  Soul  ; 
The  Soul  has  that  measureless  pride  which  revolts  from 

every  lesson  but  its  own. 

8 

12  Now  I  give  you  an  inkling  ; 

Now  I  breathe  the  word  of  the  prudence  that  walks 

abreast  with  time,  space,  reality, 
That  answers  the  pride  which  refuses  every  lesson  but 

its  own. 

13  What  is  prudence,  is  indivisible, 

Declines  to  separate  one  part  of  life  from  every  part, 
Divides  not  the  righteous  from  the  unrighteous,  or  the 

living  from  the  dead, 

Matches  every  thought  or  act  by  its  correlative, 
Knows  no  possible  forgiveness,  or  deputed  atonement, 
Knows  that  the  young   man  who  composedly  peril'd 

his  life  and  lost  it,  has  done   exceedingly  well 

for  himself,  without  doubt, 
That  he  who  never  peril'd  his  life,  but  retains  it  to  old 

age  in  riches  and  ease,   has  probably  achiev'd 

nothing  for  himself  worth  mentioning  ; 
Knows  that  only  that  person  has  really  learn'd,  who 

has  learn'd  to  prefer  results, 
Who  favors  Body  and  Soul  the  same, 
Who  perceives   the   indirect   assuredly  following    the 

direct, 
Who  in  his  spirit  in  any  emergency  whatever  neither 

hurries  or  avoids  death. 


LEAVES  or  GBASS.  307 


All  is  Truth. 

1  O  ME,  man  of  slack  faith  so  long ! 
Standing  aloof — denying  portions  so  long  ; 
Only  aware  to-day  of  compact,  all-diffused  truth  ; 
Discovering  to-day  there  is  no  lie,  or  form  of  lie,  and 

can  be  none,  but  grows  as  inevitably  upon  itself 
as  the  truth  does  upon  itself, 

Or  as  any  law  of  the  earth,  or  any  natural  production 
of  the  earth  does. 

2  (This  is  curious,  and  may  not  be  realized  immediately 

— But  it  must  be  realized  ; 
I  feel  in  myself  that  I  represent  falsehoods  equally  with 

the  rest, 
And  that  the  universe  does.) 

3  "Where  has  fail'd  a  perfect  return,  indifferent  of  lies  or 

the  truth  ? 

Is  it  upon  the  ground,  or  in  water  or  fire  ?  or  in  the 
spirit  of  man  ?  or  in  the  meat  and  blood  ? 

4  Meditating  among  liars,  and  retreating  sternly  into 

myself,  I  see  that  there  are  really  no  liars  or  lies 

after  all, 
And  that  nothing  fails  its  perfect  return — And  that 

what  are  called  lies  are  perfect  returns, 
And  that  each  thing  exactly  represents  itself,  and  what 

has  preceded  it, 
And  that  the  truth  includes  all,  and  is  compact,  just  as 

much  as  space  is  compact, 
And  that  there  is  no  flaw  or  vacuum  in  the  amount  of 

the  truth — but  that  all  is  truth  without  excep 
tion  ; 
And  henceforth  I  will  go  celebrate  anything  I  see  or 

am, 
And  sing  and  laugh,  and  deny  nothing. 


308  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


Voices. 

1  Now  I  make  a  leaf  of  Voices — for  I  have  found  nothing 

mightier  than  they  are, 

And  I  have  found  that  no  word  spoken,  but  is  beautiful, 
in  its  place. 

2  O  what  is  it  in  me  that  makes  me  tremble  so  at  voices  ? 
Surely,  whoever  speaks  to  me  in  the  right  voice,  him  or 

her  I  shall  follow, 

As  the  water  follows  the  moon,  silently,  with  fluid  steps, 
anywhere  around  the  globe. 

3  All  waits  for  the  right  voices  ; 

Where  is  the  practis'd  and  perfect  organ  ?    Where  is 

the  develop'd  Soul  ? 
For  I  see  every  word  utter'd  thence,  has  deeper,  sweeter, 

new  sounds,  impossible  on  less  terms. 

4  I  see  brains  and  lips  closed — tympans  and  temples 

unstruck, 
Until  that  comes  which  has  the  quality  to  strike  and  to 

unclose, 
Until  that  comes  which  has  the  quality  to  bring  forth 

what  lies  slumbering,  forever  ready,  in  all  words. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is 
OVER. 

As  I  SAT  ALONE  BY  BLUE  ONTARIO'S  SHORE. 

1 

1  As  I  a  sat  alone,  by  blue  Ontario's  shore, 

As  I  mused  of  these  mighty  days,  and  of  peace  return'd, 

and  the  dead  that  return  no  more, 
A  Phantom,  gigantic,  superb,  with  stern  visage,  accosted 

me  ; 
Chant  me  the  poem,  it  said,  that  comes  from  the  soul  of 

America — chant  me  the  carol  of  victory  ; 
And  strike  up  the  marches  of  Libertad — marches  more 

powerful  yet ; 
And  sing  me  before  you  go,  the  song  of  the  throes  of 

Democracy. 

2  (Democracy — the  destin'd  conqueror — yet  treacherous 

lip-smiles  everywhere, 
And  Death  and  infidelity  at  every  step.) 


3  A  Nation  announcing  itself, 

I  myself  make  the  only  growth  by  which  I  can  be  ap 
preciated, 

I  reject  none,  accept  all,  then  reproduce  all  in  my  own 
forms. 


310  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

4  A  breed  whose  proof  is  in  time  and  deeds  ; 

What  we  are,  we  are — nativity  is  answer  enough  to 

objections  ; 

We  wield  ourselves  as  a  weapon  is  wielded, 
We  are  powerful  and  tremendous  in  ourselves, 
We  are  executive  in  ourselves — We  are  sufficient  in  the 

variety  of  ourselves, 

We  are  the  most  beautiful  to  ourselves,  and  in  ourselves ; 
We  stand  self-pois'd  in  the  middle,  branching  thence 

over  the  world  ; 
From  Missouri,  Nebraska,  or  Kansas,  laughing  attacks 

to  scorn. 

6  Nothing  is  sinful  to  us  outside  of  ourselves, 
Whatever  appears,  whatever  does  not  appear,  we  are 
beautiful  or  sinful  in  ourselves  only. 

6  (O  mother !  O  sisters  dear ! 

If  we  are  lost,  no  victor  else  has  destroy'd  us  ; 

It  is  by  ourselves  we  go  down  to  eternal  night.) 


3 

7  Have    you    thought    there    could    be  but   a  single 

Supreme? 

There  can  be  any  number  of  Supremes — One  does  not 
countervail  another,  any  more  than  one  eyesight 
countervails  another,  or  one  life  countervails 
another. 

8  All  is  eligible  to  all, 

All  is  for  individuals — All  is  for  you, 

No  condition  is  prohibited — not  God's,  or  any. 

9  All  comes  by  the  body — only  health  puts  you  rapport 

with  the  universe. 


10  Produce  great  persons,  the  rest  follows. 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  311 

4 

11  America  isolated  I  sing  ; 

I  say  that  works  made  here  in  the  spirit  of  other  lands, 
are  so  much  poison  in  The  States. 

12  (How  dare  such  insects  as  we  see  assume  to  write 

poems  for  America  ? 

For  our  victorious  armies,  and  the  offspring  following 
the  armies  ?) 

13  Piety  and  conformity  to  them  that  hire  . 
Peace,  obesity,  allegiance,  to  them  that  like  ! 

I  am  he  who  tauntingly  compels  men,  women,  nations, 
Crying,  Leap  from  your  seats,  and  contend  for  your 
lives ! 

14  I  am  he  who  walks  the  States  with  a  barb'd  tongue, 

questioning  every  one  I  meet ; 
Who  are  you,  that  wanted  only  to  be  told  what  you 

knew  before  ? 
Who  are  you,  that  wanted  only  a  book  to  join  you  in 

your  nonsense  ? 

15  (With  pangs  and  cries,  as  thine  own,  O  bearer  of 

many  children ! 
These  clamors  wild,  to  a  race  of  pride  I  give.) 

16  O  lands !  would  you  be  freer  than  all  that  has  ever 

been  before  ? 

If  you  would  be  freer  than  all  that  has  been  before, 
come  listen  to  me. 

17  Fear  grace — Fear  elegance,  civilization,  delicatesse, 
Fear  the  mellow  sweet,  the  sucking  of  honey-juice  ; 
Beware  the  advancing  mortal  ripening  of  nature, 
Beware  what  precedes  the  decay  of  the  ruggedness  of 

states  and  men. 


312  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

5 

18  Ages,  precedents,  have  long  been  accumulating  undi 

rected  materials, 
America  brings  builders,  and  brings  its  own  styles. 

19  The  immortal  poets  of  Asia  and  Europe  have  done 

their  work,  and  pass'd  to  other  spheres, 
A  work  remains,  the  work  of  surpassing  all  they  have 
done. 

20  America,  curious  toward  foreign  characters,  stands 

by  its  own  at  all  hazards, 

Stands  removed,  spacious,  composite,  sound — initiates 
the  true  use  of  precedents, 

Does  not  repel  them,  or  the  past,  or  what  they  have 
produced  under  their  forms, 

Takes  the  lesson  with  calmness,  perceives  the  corpse 
slowly  borne  from  the  house, 

Perceives  that  it  waits  a  little  while  in  the  door — that 
it  was  fittest  for  its  days, 

That  its  life  has  descended  to  the  stalwart  and  well- 
shaped  heir  who  approaches, 

And  that  he  shall  be  fittest  for  his  days. 

21  Any  period,  one  nation  must  lead, 

One  land  must  be  the  promise  and  reliance  of  the 
future. 

22  These  States  are  the  amplest  poem, 

Here  is  not  merely  a  nation,  but  a  teeming  nation  of 
nations, 

Here  the  doings  of  men  correspond  with  the  broadcast 
doings  of  the  day  and  night, 

Here  is  what  moves  in  magnificent  masses,  careless  of 
particulars, 

Here  are  the  roughs,  beards,  friendliness,  combative- 
ness,  the  Soul  loves, 

Here  the  flowing  trains — here  the  crowds,  equality, 
diversity,  the  Soul  loves. 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  313 

6 

23  Land  of  lands,  and  bards  to  corroborate ! 

Of  them,  standing  among  them,  one  lifts  to  the  light  his 
west-bred  face, 

To  him  the  hereditary  countenance  bequeath'd,  both 
mother's  and  father's, 

His  first  parts  substances,  earth,  water,  animals,  trees, 

Built  of  the  common  stock,  having  room  for  far  and 
near, 

Used^o  dispense  with  other  lands,  incarnating  this 
land. 

Attracting  it  Body  and  Soul  to  himself,  hanging  on  its 
neck  with  incomparable  love, 

Plunging  his  seminal  muscle  into  its  merits  and  de 
merits, 

Making  its  cities,  beginnings,  events,  diversities,  wars, 
vocal  in  him, 

Making  its  rivers,  lakes,  bays,  embouchure  in  him, 

Mississippi  with  yearly  freshets  and  changing  chutes — 
Columbia,  Niagara,  Hudson,  spending  them 
selves  lovingly  in  him, 

If  the  Atlantic  coast  stretch,  or  the  Pacific  coast  stretch, 
he  stretching  with  them  north  or  south, 

Spanning  between  them,  east  and  west,  and  touching 
whatever  is  between  them, 

Growths  growing  from  him  to  offset  the  growth  of 
pine,  cedar,  hemlock,  live-oak,  locust,  chestnut, 
hickory,  cotton-wood,  orange,  magnolia, 

Tangles  as  tangled  in  him  as  any  cane-brake  or  swamp, 

He  likening  sides  and  peaks  of  mountains,  forests 
coated  with  northern  transparent  ice, 

Off  him  pasturage  sweet  and  natural  as  savanna,  up 
land,  prairie, 

Through  him  flights,  whirls,  screams,  answering  those 
of  the  fish-hawk,  mocking-bird,  night-heron,  and 
eagle  ; 

His  spirit  surrounding  his  country's  spirit,  unclosed  to 
good  and  evil, 

Surrounding  the  essences  of  real  things,  old  times  and 
present  times, 
14 


314  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Surrounding  just  found  shores,  islands,  tribes  of  red 
aborigines, 

Weather-beaten  vessels,  landings,  settlements,  embryo 
stature  and  muscle, 

The  haughty  defiance  of  the  Year  1 — war,  peace,  the 
formation  of  the  Constitution, 

The  separate  States,  the  simple,  elastic  scheme,  the  im 
migrants, 

The  Union,  always  swarming  with  blatherers,  and 
always  sure  and  impregnable,  9 

The  unsurvey'd  interior,  log-houses,  clearings,  wild 
animals,  hunters,  trappers  ; 

Surrounding  the  multiform  agriculture,  mines,  tem 
perature,  the  gestation  of  new  States, 

Congress  convening  every  Twelfth-month,  the  mem 
bers  duly  coming  up  from  the  uttermost  parts  ; 

Surrounding  the  noble  character  of  mechanics  and 
farmers,  especially  the  young  men, 

Eesponding  their  manners,  speech,  dress,  friendships — 
the  gait  they  have  of  persons  who  never  knew 
how  it  felt  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  superiors, 

The  freshness  and  candor  of  their  physiognomy,  the 
copiousness  and  decision  of  their  phrenology, 

The  picturesque  looseness  of  their  carriage,  their  fierce 
ness  when  wrong'd, 

The  fluency  of  their  speech,  their  delight  in  music,  their 
curiosity,  good  temper,  and  open-handedness — 
the  whole  composite  make, 

The  prevailing  ardor  and  enterprise,  the  large  amative- 
ness, 

The  perfect  equality  of  the  female  with  the  male,  the 
fluid  movement  of  the  population, 

The  superior  marine,  free  commerce,  fisheries,  whaling, 
gold-digging, 

Wharf-hemm'd  cities,  railroad  and  steamboat  lines,  in 
tersecting  all  points, 

Factories,  mercantile  life,  labor-saving  machinery,  the 
north-east,  north-west,  south-west, 

Manhattan  firemen,  the  Yankee  swap,  southern  planta 
tion  life, 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAE  is  OVEE.  315 

Slavery — the  murderous,  treacherous  conspiracy  to  raise 

it  upon  the  ruins  of  all  the  rest ; 
On  and  on  to  the  grapple  with  it — Assassin !  then  your 

life  or  ours  be  the  stake — and  respite  no  more. 


24  (Lo  !  high  toward  heaven,  this  day, 
Libertad  !  from  the  conqueress3  field  return'd, 
I  mark  the  new  aureola  around  your  head  ; 
No  more  of  soft  astral,  but  dazzling  and  fierce, 

"With  war's  flames,  and  the  lambent  lightnings  playing, 

And  your  port  immovable  where  you  stand  ; 

With  still  the  inextinguishable  glance,  and  the  clench'd 

and  lifted  fist, 
And  your  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  menacing  one,  the 

scorner,  utterly  crushed  beneath  you  ; 
The  menacing,  arrogant  one,  that  strode  and  advanced 

with  his  senseless  scorn,  bearing  the  murderous 

knife  ; 
— Lo  !  the  wide  swelling  one,  the  braggart,  that  would 

yesterday  do  so  much  ! 
To-day  a  carrion  dead  and  damn'd,  the  despised  of  all 

the  earth ! 
An  offal  rank,  to  the  dunghill  maggots  spurn'd.) 

8 

25  Others  take  finish,  but  the  Eepublic  is  ever  construc 

tive,  and  ever  keeps  vista  ; 
Others  adorn  the  past — but  you,  O  days  of  the  present, 

I  adorn  you ! 
O  days  of  the  future,  I  believe  in  you  !  I  isolate  myself 

for  your  sake  ; 
O  America,  because  you  build  for  mankind,  I  build  for 

you ! 

0  well-beloved  stone-cutters !  I  lead  them  who  plan  with 

decision  and  science, 

1  lead  the  present  with  friendly  hand  toward  the  fu 

ture. 


316  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

26  Bravas  to  all  impulses  sending  sane  children  to  the 

next  age ! 

But  damn  that  which  spends  itself,  with  no  thought  of 
the  stain,  pains,  dismay,  feebleness,  it  is  be 
queathing. 

9 

27  I  listened  to  the  Phantom  by  Ontario's  shore, 
I  heard  the  voice  arising,  demanding  bards  ; 

By  them,  all  native  and  grand — by  them  alone  can  The 
States  be  fused  into  the  compact  organism  of  a 
Nation. 

28  To  hold  men  together  by  paper  and  seal,  or  by  com 

pulsion,  is  no  account ; 

That  only  holds  men  together  which  aggregates  all  in 
a  living  principle,  as  the  hold  of  the  limbs  of  the 
body,  or  the  fibres  of  plants. 

29  Of  all  races  and  eras,  These  States,  with  veins  full  of 

poetical  stuff,  most  need  poets,  and  are  to  have 
the  greatest,  and  use  them  the  greatest ; 
Their  Presidents  shall  not  be  their  common  referee  so 
much  as  their  poets  shall. 

30  (Soul  of  love,  and  tongue  of  fire ! 

Eye  to  pierce  the  deepest  deeps,  and  sweep  the  world ! 
— Ah,  mother  !  prolific  and  full  in  all  besides — yet  how 
long  barren,  barren  ?) 

10 

31  Of  These  States,  the  poet  is  the  equable  man, 

Not  in  him,  but  off  from  him,  things  are  grotesque, 

eccentric,  fail  of  their  full  returns, 
Nothing  out  of  its  place  is  good,  nothing  in  its  place  is 

bad, 
He  bestows  on  every  object  or  quality  its  fit  proportion, 

neither  more  nor  less, 

He  is  the  arbiter  of  the  diverse,  he  is  the  key, 
He  is  the  equalizer  of  his  age  and  land, 


MAECHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVEB.  317 

He  supplies  what  wants  supplying — he  checks  what 
wants  checking, 

In  peace,  out  of  him  speaks  the  spirit  of  peace,  large, 
rich,  thrifty,  building  populous  towns,  encour 
aging  agriculture,  arts,  commerce,  lighting  the 
study  of  man,  the  Soul,  health,  immortality,  gov 
ernment  ; 

In  war,  he  is  the  best  backer  of  the  war — he  fetches 
artillery  as  good  as  the  engineer's — he  can  make 
every  word  he  speaks  draw  blood  ; 

The  years  straying  toward  infidelity,  he  withholds  by 
his  steady  faith, 

He  is  no  arguer,  he  is  judgment — (Nature  accepts  him 
absolutely  ;) 

He  judges  not  as  the  judge  judges,  but  as  the  sun  fall 
ing  round  a  helpless  thing ; 

As  he  sees  the  farthest,  he  has  the  most  faith, 

His  thoughts  are  the  hymns  of  the  praise  of  things, 

In  the  dispute  on  God  and  eternity  he  is  silent, 

He  sees  eternity  less  like  a  play  with  a  prologue  and 
denouement, 

He  sees  eternity  in  men  and  women — he  d&es  not  see 
men  and  women  as  dreams  or  dots. 

32  For  the  great  Idea,  the  idea  of  perfect  and  free  indi 

viduals, 
For  that  idea,  the  bard  walks  in  advance,  leader  of 

leaders, 
The  attitude  of  him  cheers  up  slaves,  and  horrifies 

foreign  despots. 

33  Without  extinction  is  Liberty !  without  retrograde  is 

Equality ! 
They  live  in  the  feelings  of  young  men,  and  the  best 

women  ; 
Not  for  nothing  have  the  indomitable  heads  of  the  earth 

been  always  ready  to  fall  for  Liberty. 

11 

34  For  the  great  Idea ! 

That,  O  my  brethren — that  is  the  mission  of  Poets. 


318  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

55  Songs  of  stern  defiance,  ever  ready, 

Songs  of  the  rapid  arming,  and  the  march, 

The  flag  of  peace  quick-folded,  and  instead,  the  flag  we 

know, 
Warlike  flag  of  the  great  Idea. 

36 ,  (Angry  cloth  I  saw  there  leaping  ! 

I  stand  again  in  leaden  rain,  your  flapping  folds  saluting; 

I  sing  you  over  all,  flying,  beckoning  through  the  fight 

— O  the  hard-contested  fight ! 
O  the  cannons  ope  their  rosy-flashing  muzzles !   the 

hurtled  balls  scream ! 
The  battle-front  forms   amid  the  smoke — the  volleys 

pour  incessant  from  the  line  ; 
Hark !  the  ringing  word,  Charge  I — now  the  tussle,  and 

the  furious  maddening  yells  ; 
Now  the  corpses  tumble  curl'd  upon  the  ground, 
Cold,  cold  in  death,  for  precious  life  of  you, 
Angry  cloth  I  saw  there  leaping.) 

12 

37  Are  you  he  who  would  assume  a  place  to  teach,  or  be 

a  poet  here  in  The  States  ? 
The  place  is  august — the  terms  obdurate. 

38  Who  would  assume  to  teach  here,  may  well  prepare 

himself,  body  and  mind, 
He  may  well  survey,  ponder,  arm,  fortify,  harden,  make 

lithe,  himself, 
He  shall  surely  be  question'd  beforehand  by  me  with 

many  and  stern  questions. 

39  Who  are  you,  indeed,  who  would  talk  or  sing  to 

America  ? 

Have  you  studied  out  the  land,  its  idioms  and  men  ? 

Have  you  learn'd  the  physiology,  phrenology,  politics, 
geography,  pride,  freedom,  friendship,  of  the 
land  ?  its  substratums  and  objects  ? 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  319 

Have  you  consider'd  the  organic  compact  of  the  first 
day  of  the  first  year  of  Independence,  sign'd  by 
the  Commissioners,  ratified  by  The  States,  and 
read  by  Washington  at  the  head  of  the  army? 

Have  you  possess'd  yourself  of  the  Federal  Constitution  ? 

Do  you  see  who  have  left  all  feudal  processes  and  poems 
behind  them,  and  assumed  the  poems  and  pro 
cesses  of  Democracy? 

Are  you  faithful  to  things  ?  do  you  teach  as  the  land 
and  sea,  the  bodies  of  men,  womanhood,  ama- 
tiveness,  angers,  teach  ? 

Have  you  sped  through  fleeting  customs,  popularities  ? 

Can  you  hold  your  hand  against  all  seductions,  follies, 
whirls,  fierce  contentions  ?  are  you  very  strong  ? 
are  you  really  of  the  whole  people  ? 

Are  you  not  of  some  coterie  ?  some  school  or  mere 
religion  ? 

Are  you  done  with  reviews  and  criticisms  of  life  ?  ani 
mating  now  to  life  itself  ? 

Have  you  vivified  yourself  from  the  maternity  of  These 
States  ? 

Have  you  too  the  old,  ever-fresh,  forbearance  and  im 
partiality  ? 

Do  you  hold  the  like  love  for  those  hardening  to  ma 
turity  ;  for  the  last-born  ?  little  and  big  ?  and 
for  the  errant  ? 

40  What  is  this  you  bring  my  America  ? 

Is  it  uniform  with  my  country  ? 

Is  it  not  something  that  has  been  better  told  or  done 
before  ? 

Have  you  not  imported  this,  or  the  spirit  of  it,  in  some 
ship? 

Is  it  not  a  mere  tale  ?  a  rhyme  ?  a  prettiness  ?  is  the 
good  old  cause  in  it  ? 

Has  it  not  dangled  long  at  the  heels  of  the  poets,  poli 
ticians,  Hterats,  of  enemies'  lands  ? 

Does  it  not  assume  that  what  is  notoriously  gone  is  still 
here? 

Does  it  answer  universal  needs  ?  will  it  improve  man 
ners? 


320  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

Does  it  sound,  with  trumpet-voice,  the  proud  victory  of 
the  Union,  in  that  secession  war  ? 

Can  your  performance  face  the  open  fields  and  the  sea 
side? 

Will  it  absorb  into  me  as  I  absorb  food,  air — to  appear 
again  in  my  strength,  gait,  face  ? 

Have  real  employments  contributed  to  it?  original 
makers — not  mere  amanuenses  ? 

Does  it  meet  modern  discoveries,  calibers,  facts,  face  to 
face? 

What  does  it  mean  to  me  ?  to  American  persons,  pro 
gresses,  cities  ?  Chicago,  Kanada,  Arkansas  ?  the 
planter,  Yankee,  Georgian,  native,  immigrant, 
sailors,  squatters,  old  States,  new  States  ? 

Does  it  encompass  all  The  States,  and  the  unexcep 
tional  rights  of  all  the  men  and  women  of  the 
earth  ?  (the  genital  impulse  of  These  States  ;) 

Does  it  see  behind  the  apparent  custodians,  the  real 
custodians,  standing,  menacing,  silent— the  me 
chanics,  Manhattanese,  western  men,  southerners, 
significant  alike  in  their  apathy,  and  in  the 
promptness  of  their  love  ? 

Does  it  see  what  finally  befalls,  and  has  always  finally 
befallen,  each  temporizer,  patcher,  outsider,  par- 
tialist,  alarmist,  infidel,  who  has  ever  ask'd  any 
thing  of  America? 

What  mocking  and  scornful  negligence  ? 

The  track  strew'd  with  the  dust  of  skeletons  ; 

By  the  roadside  others  disdainfully  toss'd. 

13 

41  Rhymes   and    rhymers   pass   away — poems   distill'd 

from  foreign  poems  pass  away, 
The  swarms  of  reflectors  and  the  polite  pass,  and  leave 

ashes  ; 
Admirers,  importers,  obedient  persons,  make  but  the 

soil  of  literature  ; 
America  justifies  itself,  give  it  time — no  disguise  can 

deceive  it,  or   conceal  from  it — it  is  impassive 

enough, 


§ 


MAECHES  NOW  THE  WAB  is  OVEK.  321 

•4* 
Only  toward  the  likes  of  itself  will  it  advance  t6  meet 

them, 
If  its  poets  appear,  it  will  in  due  time  advance  to  meet 

them  —  there  is  no  fear  of  mistake, 
(The  proof  of  a  poet  shall  be  sternly  deferr'd,  till  his 

country  absorbs  him.  as  affectionately  as  he  has 

absorb'd  it.) 

42  He  masters  whose  spirit  masters  —  he  tastes  sweetest 

who  results  sweetest  in  the  long  run  ; 

The  blood  of  the  brawn  beloved  of  time  isunconstraint; 

In  the  need  of  poems,  philosophy,  politics,  manners, 
engineering,  an  appropriate  native  grand-opera, 
shipcraft,  any  craft,  he  or  she  is  greatest  who 
contributes  the  greatest  original  practical  ex 
ample. 

43  Already  a  nonchalant  breed,  silently  emerging,  ap 

pears  on  the  streets, 
People's  lips  salute  only  doers,  lovers,  satisfiers,  positive 

knowers  ; 
There  will  shortly  be  no  more  priests  —  I  say  their  work 

is  done, 
Death  is  without  emergencies  here,  but  life  is  perpet 

ual  emergencies  here, 
Are  your  body,   days,  manners,  superb?   after  death 

you  shall  be  superb  ; 
Justice,  health,  self-esteem,  clear  the  way  with  irresist 

ible  power  ; 
How  dare  you  place  anything  before  a  man  ? 

14 

44  Fall  behind  me,  States  ! 

A  man  before  all  —  myself,  typical,  before  all. 

45  Give  me  the  pay  I  have  served  for  ! 

Give  me  to  sing  the  song  of  the  great  Idea  !  take  all 

the  rest  ; 
I  have  loved  the  earth,  sun,  animals  —  I  have  despised 

riches, 


322  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  have»given  alms  to  every  one  that^ask'd,  stood  up  for 

the  stupid  and  crazy,  devoted  my  income  and 

labor  to  others, 
I  have  hated  tyrants,  argued  not  concerning  God,  had 

patience   and    indulgence    toward   the    people, 

taken  off  my  hat  to  nothing  known  or  unknown, 
I  have  gone  freely  with  powerful  uneducated  persons, 

and  with  the  young,   and  with  the  mothers  of 

families, 
I  have  read  these  leaves  to  myself  in  the  open  air — I 

have  tried  them  by  trees,  stars,  rivers, 
I  have  dismiss'd  whatever  insulted  my  own  Soul  or 

denied  my  Body, 
I  have  claim' d  nothing  to  myself  which  I  have  not 

carefully  claiin'd  for  others  on  the  same  terms, 
I  have  sped  to  the  camps,  and  comrades  found  and 

accepted  from  every  State  ; 

(In  war  of  you,  as  well  as  peace,  my  suit  is  good,  Amer 
ica — sadly  I  boast ; 
Upon  this  breast  has  many  a  dying  soldier  leanM,  to 

breathe  his  last  ; 
This  arm,  this  hand,  this  voice,  have  nourished,  rais'd, 

restored, 

To  life  recalling  many  a  prostrate  form  :) 
— I  am  willing  to  wait  to  be  understood  by  the  growth 

of  the  taste  of  myself, 
I  reject  none,  I  permit  all. 

46  (Say,  O  mother !  have  I  not  to  your  thought  been 

faithful? 

Have  I  not,  through  life,  kept  you  and  yours  before 
me?) 

15 

47  I  swear  I  begin  to  see  the  meaning  of  these  things ! 
It  is  not  the  earth,  it  is  not  America,  who  is  so  great, 
It  is  I  who  am  great,  or  to  be  great— it  is  you  up  there, 

or  any  one  ; 

It  is  to  walk  rapidly  through  civilizations,  governments, 
theories, 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  323 

Through  poems,  pageants,  shows,  to  form  great  indi 
viduals. 

B  Underneath  all,  individuals! 

I  swear  nothing  is  good  to  me  now  that  ignores  indi 
viduals, 

The  American  compact  is  altogether  with  individuals, 

The  only  government  is  that  which  makes  minute  of 
individuals, 

The  whole  theory  of  the  universe  is  directed  to  one 
single  individual — namely,  to  You. 

49  (Mother !  with  subtle  sense  severe — with  the  naked 
sword  in  your  hand, 

I  saw  you  at  last  refuse  to  treat  but  directly  with  indi 
viduals.) 

16 

60  Underneath  all,  nativity, 

I  swear  I  will  stand  by  my  own  nativity — pious  or  im 
pious,  so  be  it ; 

I  swear  I  am  charm'd  with  nothing  except  nativity, 

Men,  women,  cities,  nations,  are  only  beautiful  from 
nativity. 

51  Underneath  all  is  the  need  of  the  expression  of  love 

for  men  and  women, 
I  swear  I  have  seen  enough  of  mean  and  impotent 

modes  of  expressing  love  for  men  and  women, 
After  this  day  I  take  my  own  modes  of  expressing  love 

for  men  and  women. 

52  I  swear  I  will  have  each  quality  of  my  race  in  my 

self, 

(Talk  as  you  like,  he  only  suits  These  States  whose 
manners  favor  the  audacity  and  sublime  turbu 
lence  of  The  States.) 

63  Underneath  the  lessons  of  things,  spirits,  Nature, 
governments,  ownerships,  I  swear  I  perceive 
other  lessons, 


324  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Underneath  all,  to  me  is  myself — to  you,  yourself — (the 
same  monotonous  old  song.) 

17 

54  O  I  see  now,  flashing,  that  this  America  is  only  you 
and  me, 

Its  power,  weapons,  testimony,  are  you  and  me, 

Its  crimes,  lies,  thefts,  defections,  slavery,  are  you  and 
me, 

Its  Congress  is  you  and  me — the  officers,  capitols,  ar 
mies,  ships,  are  you  and  me, 

Its  endless  gestations  of  new  States  are  you  and  me, 

The  war — that  war  so  bloody  and  grim — the  war  I  will 
henceforth  forget — was  you  and  me, 

Natural  and  artificial  are  you  and  me, 

Freedom,  language,  poems,  employments,  are  you  and 
me, 

Past,  present,  future,  are  you  and  me. 

18 

65  I  swear  I  dare  not  shirk  any  part  of  myself, 
Not  any  part  of  America,  good  or  bad, 

Not  the  promulgation  of  Liberty — not  to  cheer  up  slaves 

and  horrify  foreign  despots, 
Not  to  build  for  that  which  builds  for  mankind, 
Not  to  balance  ranks,  complexions,  creeds,  and  the 

sexes, 

Not  to  justify  science,  nor  the  march  of  equality, 
Nor  to  feed  the  arrogant  blood  of  the  brawn  beloved 

of  time. 

66  I  swear  I  am  for  those  that  have  never  been  mas- 

ter'd ! 
For  men  and  women  whose  tempers  have  never  been 

master'd, 
For  those  whom  laws,  theories,  conventions,  can  never 

master. 


MABCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVEE.  325 

67  I  swear  I  am  for  those  who  walk  abreast  with  the 

whole  earth ! 
Who  inaugurate  one,  to  inaugurate  all. 

68  I  swear  I  will  not  be  outfaced  by  irrational  things  ! 

I  will  penetrate  what  it  is  in  them  that  is  sarcastic  upon 

me ! 

I  will  make  cities  and  civilizations  defer  to  me  ! 
This  is  what  I  have  learnt  from  America — it  is  the 

amount — and  it  I  teach  again. 

59  (Democracy !  while  weapons  were  everywhere  aim'd 

at  your  breast, 
I  saw  you  serenely  give  birth  to  immortal  children — 

saw  in  dreams  your  dilating  form  ; 
Saw  you  with  spreading  mantle  covering  the  world.) 

19 

60  I  will  confront  these  shows  of  the  day  and  night ! 
I  will  know  if  I  am  to  be  less  than  they ! 

I  will  see  if  I  am  not  as  majestic  as  they ! 

I  will  see  if  I  am  not  as  subtle  and  real  as  they ! 

I  will  see  if  I  am  to  be  less  generous  than  they ! 

61  I  will  see  if  I  have  no  meaning,  while  the  houses  and 

ships  have  meaning ! 

I  will  see  if  the  fishes  and  birds  are  to  be  enough  for 
themselves,  and  I  am  not  to  be  enough  for  my 
self. 

20 

62  I  match  my  spirit  against  yours,  you  orbs,  growths, 

mountains,  brutes, 

Copious  as  you  are,  I  absorb  you  all  in  myself,  and  be 
come  the  master  myself. 

63  America  isolated,  yet  embodying  all,  what  is  it  finally 

except  myself  ? 
These  States — what  are  they  except  myself  ? 


326  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

64  I  know  now  why  the   earth  is  gross,  tantalizing, 

wicked — it  is  for  my  sake, 

I  take  you  to  be  mine,  you  beautiful,  terrible,  rude 
forms. 

65  (Mother  !  bend  down,  bend  close  to  me  your  face ! 

I  know  not  what  these  plots  and  wars,  and  deferments 

are  for ; 
I  know  not  fruition's  success — but  I  know  that  through 

war  and  peace  your  work  goes  on,  and  must  yet 

go  on.) 

21  ,  / 

66 Thus,  by  blue  Ontario's  shore, 

While  the  winds  fann'd  me,  and  the  waves  came  troop 
ing  toward  me, 

I  thrill'd  with  the  Power's  pulsations — and  the  charm 
of  my  theme  was  upon  me, 

Till  the  tissues  that  held  me,  parted  their  ties  upon 
me. 

67  And  I  saw  the  free  Souls  of  poets  ; 

The  loftiest  bards  of  past  ages  strode  before  me, 
Strange,  large  men,  long  unwaked,  undisclosed,  were 
disclosed  to  me. 

22 

68  O  my  rapt  verse,  my  call — mock  me  not ! 

Not  for  the  bards  of  the  past — not  to  invoke  them  have 

I  launch'd  you  forth, 
Not  to  call  even  those  lofty  bards  here  by  Ontario's 

shores, 
Have  I  sung,  so  capricious  and  loud,  my  savage  song. 

69  Bards  for  my  own  land,  only,  I  invoke  ; 

(For  the  war,  the  war  is  over — the  field  is  clear'd,) 
Till  they  strike  up  marches  henceforth  triumphant  and 

onward, 
To  cheer,  O  mother,  your  boundless,  expectant  soul. 


MAECHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  327 

70  Bards  grand  as  these  days  so  grand ! 

Bards  of  the  great  Idea !  Bards  of  the  peaceful  inven 
tions  !  (for  the  war,  the  war  is  over  !) 

Yet  Bards  of  the  latent  armies — a  million  soldiers  wait 
ing  ever-ready, 

Bards  towering  like  hills — (no  more  these  dots,  these 
pigmies,  these  little  piping  straws,  these  gnats, 
that  fill  the  hour,  to  pass  for  poets  ;) 

Bards  with  songs  as  from  burning  coals,  or  the  light 
ning's  fork'd  stripes ! 

Ample  Ohio's  bards — bards  for  California  !  inland 
bards — bards  of  the  war  ; 

(As  a  wheel  turns  on  its  axle,  so  I  find  my  chants  turn 
ing  finally  on  the  war  ;) 

Bards  of  pride !  Bards  tallying  the  ocean's  roar,  and 
the  swooping  eagle's  scream  ! 

You,  by  my  charm,  I  invoke  ! 


PIONEERS!    O  PIONEERS! 


COME,  my  tan-faced  children, 
Follow  well  in  order,  get  your  weapons  ready  ; 
Have  you  your  pistols?  have  you  your  sharp  edged 
axes? 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


For  we  cannot  tarry  here, 
We  must  march  my  darlings,  we  must  bear  the  brunt 

of  danger, 

We,  the  youthful  sinewy  races,  all  the  rest  on  us  depend, 
Pioneers !  0  pioneers ! 


328  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

3 

O  you  youths,  western  youths, 
So  impatient,  full  of  action,  full  of  manly  pride  and 

friendship, 

Plain  I  see  you,  western  youths,  see  you  tramping  with 
the  foremost, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


Have  the  elder  races  halted  ? 
Do  they  droop  and  end  their  lesson,  wearied,  over  there 

beyond  the  seas  ? 

We  take  up  the  task  eternal,  and  the  burden,  and  the 
lesson, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


All  the  past  we  leave  behind  ; 
We  debouch  upon   a  newer,   mightier  world,  varied 

world ; 

Fresh  and  strong  the  world  we  seize,  world  of  labor  and 
the  march, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


We  detachments  steady  throwing, 
Down  the  edges,  through  the  passes,  up  the  mountains 

steep, 

Conquering,  holding,  daring,  venturing,  as  we  go,  the 
unknown  ways, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


We  primeval  forests  felling, 
We  the  rivers  stemming,  vexing  we,  and  piercing  deep 

the  mines  within ; 

We  the  surface  broad  surveying,  we  the  virgin  soil  up 
heaving, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


MAECHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  329 


Colorado  men  are  we, 
From  the  peaks  gigantic,  from  the  great  sierras  and  the 

high  plateaus, 

From  the  mine  and  from  the  gully,  from  the  hunting 
trail  we  come, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


From  Nebraska,  from  Arkansas, 
Central  inland  race  are  we,  from  Missouri,  with  the 

continental  blood  intervened ; 

All  the  hands  of  comrades  clasping,  all  the  Southern, 
all  the  Northern, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

10 

O  resistless,  restless  race  ! 
O  beloved  race  in  all !   O  my  breast  aches  with  tender 

love  for  all ! 

0  I  mourn  and  yet  exult — I  am  rapt  with  love  for  ah1, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

11 

Raise  the  mighty  mother  mistress, 
Waving  high  the  delicate  mistress,  over  all  the  starry 

mistress,  (bend  your  heads  all,) 

Eaise  the  fang'd  and  warlike  mistress,  stern,  impassive, 
weapon'd  mistress, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

13 

See,  my  children,  resolute  children, 
By  those  swarms  upon  our  rear,  we  must  never  yield  or 

falter, 

Ages  back  in  ghostly  millions,  frowning  there  behind  us 
urging, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


C30  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

13 

On  and  on,  the  compact  ranks, 
With  accessions  ever  waiting,  with  the  places  of  the 

dead  quickly  filTd, 

Through  the  battle,  through  defeat,  moving  yet  and 
never  stopping, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

14 

O  to  die  advancing  on  ! 
Are  there  some  of  us  to  droop  and  die  ?  has  the  hour 

come  ? 

Then  upon  the  march  we  fittest  die,  soon  and  sure  the 
gap  is  filFd, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

15 

All  the  pulses  of  the  world, 

Falling  in,  they  beat  for  us,  with  the  western  move 
ment  beat ; 

Holding  single  or  together,  steady  moving,  to  the  front, 
all  for  us, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

16 

Life's  involv'd  and  varied  pageants, 
All  the  forms  and  shows,  all  the  workmen  at  their 

work, 

All  the  seamen  and  the  landsmen,  all  the  masters  with 
their  slaves, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

17 

All  the  hapless  silent  lovers, 
All  the  prisoners  in  the  prisons,  all  the  righteous  and 

the  wicked, 

All  the  joyous,  all  the  sorrowing,  all  the  living,  all  the 
dying, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


MAECHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  331 


18 


I  too  with  my  soul  and  body, 
We,  a  curious  trio,  picking,  wandering  on  our  way, 
Through  these  shores,  amid  the  shadows,  wi^h  the  ap 
paritions  pressing, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


19 

Lo  !  the  darting  bowling  orb  ! 
Lo !  the  brother  orbs  around !  all  the  clustering  suns 

and  planets  ; 

All  the  dazzling  days,  all  the  mystic  nights  with  dreams, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 

20 

These  are  of  us,  they  are  with  us, 
All  for  primal  needed  work,  while  the  followers  there 

in  embryo  wait  behind, 

We  to-day's  procession  heading,  we  the  route  for  travel 
clearing, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 

21 

O  you  daughters  of  the  west ! 
0  you  young  and  elder  daughters !  O  you  mothers  and 

you  wives ! 

Never  must  you  be  divided,  in  our  ranks  you  move 
united, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


Minstrels  latent  on  the  prairies ! 
(Shrouded  bards  of  other  lands !  you  may  sleep— you 

have  done  your  work  ;) 

Soon  I  hear  you  coming  warbling,  soon  you  rise  and 
tramp  amid  us, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers ! 


332  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 


Not  for  delectations  sweet ; 
Not  the  cushion  and  the  slipper,  not  the  peaceful  and 

the  studious  ; 

Not  the  riches  safe  and  palling,  not  for  us  the  tame  en 
joyment, 

Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


Do  the  feasters  gluttonous  feast  ? 
Do  the  corpulent  sleepers  sleep  ?  have  they  lock'd  and 

bolted  doors  ? 

Still  be  ours  the  diet  hard,  and  the  blanket  on  the 
ground, 

Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 

25 

Has  the  night  descended  ? 

Was  the  road  of  late  so  toilsome  ?  did  we  stop  discour 
aged,  nodding  on  our  way  ? 

Yet  a  passing  hour  I  yield  you,  in  your  tracks  to  pause 
oblivious, 
Pioneers  !  O  pioneers  ! 


Till  with  sound  of  trumpet, 
Far,  far  off  the  day-break  call — hark !  how  loud  and 

clear  I  hear  it  wind  ; 

Swift !  to  the  head  of  the  army ! — swift !  spring  to  your 
places, 
Pioneers !  O  pioneers ! 


MABCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  333 

RESPONDEZ ! 

RESPONDEZ  !    Respondez ! 

(The  war  is  completed — the  price  is  paid — the  title  is 
settled  beyond  recall ;) 

Let  every  one  answer !  let  those  who  sleep  be  waked ! 
let  none  evade ! 

Must  we  still  go  on  with  our  affectations  and  sneaking? 

Let  me  bring  this  to  a  close — I  pronounce  openly  for 
a  new  distribution  of  roles  ; 

Let  that  which  stood  in  front  go  behind !  and  let  that 
which  was  behind  advance  to  the  front  and 
speak ; 

Let  murderers,  bigots,  fools,  unclean  persons,  offer  new 
propositions ! 

Let  the  old  propositions  be  postponed ! 

Let  faces  and  theories  be  turn'd  inside  out !  let  mean 
ings  be  freely  criminal,  as  well  as  results  ! 

Let  there  be  no  suggestion  above  the  suggestion  of 
drudgery ! 

Let  none  be  pointed  toward  his  destination  !  (Say !  do 
you  know  your  destination  ?) 

Let  men  and  women  be  inock'd  with  bodies  and  mock'd 
with  Souls ! 

Let  the  love  that  waits  in  them,  wait !  let  it  die,  or  pass 
still-born  to  other  spheres ! 

Let  the  sympathy  that  waits  in  every  man,  wait !  or  let 
it  also  pass,  a  dwarf,  to  other  spheres ! 

Let  contradictions  prevail !  let  one  thing  contradict 
another  !  and  let  one  line  of  my  poems  contra 
dict  another ! 

Let  the  people  sprawl  with  yearning,  aimless  hands ! 
let  their  tongues  be  broken!  let  their  eyes  be 
discouraged !  let  none  descend  into  their  hearts 
with  the  fresh  lusciousness  of  love  ! 

(Stifled,  O  days !  O  lands !  in  every  public  and  private 
corruption ! 

Smother'd  in  thievery,  impotence,  shamelessness,  moun 
tain-high  ; 

Brazen  effrontery,  scheming,  rolling  like  ocean's  waves 
around  and  upon  you,  O  my  days !  my  lands ! 


334  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

For  not  even  those  thunderstorms,  nor  fiercest  light 
nings  of  the  war,  have  purified  the  atmosphere  ;) 

— Let  the  theory  of  America  still  be  management,  caste, 
comparison !  (Say !  what  other  theory  would 
you?) 

Let  them  that  distrust  birth  and  death  still  lead  the 
rest !  (Say !  why  shall  they  not  lead  you  ?) 

Let  the  crust  of  hell  be  neared  and  trod  on !  let  the 
days  be  darker  than  the  nights !  let  slumber  bring 
less  slumber  than  waking  time  brings  ! 

Let  the  world  never  appear  to  him  or  her  for  whom  it 
was  all  made ! 

Let  the  heart  of  the  young  man  still  exile  itself  from 
the  heart  of  the  old  man !  and  let  the  heart  of 
the  old  man  be  exiled  from  that  of  the  young 
man ! 

Let  the  sun  and  moon  go  !  let  scenery  take  the  applause 
of  the  audience  !  let  there  be  apathy  under  the 
stars ! 

Let  freedom  prove  no  man's  inalienable  right !  every 
one  who  can  tyrannize,  let  him  tyrannize  to  his 
satisfaction ! 

Let  none  but  infidels  be  countenanced ! 

Let  the  eminence  of  meanness,  treachery,  sarcasm,  hate, 
greed,  indecency,  impotence,  lust,  be  taken  for 
granted  above  all !  let  writers,  judges,  govern 
ments,  households,  religions,  philosophies,  take 
such  for  granted  above  all ! 

Let  the  worst  men  beget  children  out  of  the  worst 
women ! 

Let  the  priest  still  play  at  immortality! 

Let  death  be  inaugurated ! 

Let  nothing  remain  but  the  ashes  of  teachers,  artists, 
moralists,  lawyers,  and  learn'd  and  polite  per 
sons! 

Let  him  who  is  without  my  poems  be  assassinated ! 

Let  the  cow,  the  horse,  the  camel,  the  garden-bee — let 
the  mud-fish,  the  lobster,  the  mussel,  eel,  the 
sting-raj7,  and  the  grunting  pig-fish — let  these, 
and  the  like  of  these,  be  put  on  a  perfect  equality 
with  man  and  woman ! 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAB  K  OVER.  335 

Let  churches  accommodate  serpents,  vermin,  and  the 
corpses  of  those  who  have  died  of  the  most 
filthy  of  diseases ! 

Let  marriage  slip  down  among  fools,  and  be  for  none 
but  fools ! 

Let  men  among  themselves  talk  and  think  forever  ob 
scenely  of  women !  and  let  women  among  them 
selves  talk  and  think  obscenely  of  men  ! 

Let  us  all,  without  missing  one,  be  exposed  in  public, 
naked,  monthly,  at  the  peril  of  our  lives!  let 
our  bodies  be  freely  handled  and  examined  by 
whoever  chooses ! 

Let  nothing  but  copies  at  second  hand  be  permitted  to 
exist  upon  the  earth ! 

Let  the  earth  desert  God,  nor  let  there  ever  henceforth 
be  mention'd  the  name  of  God  ! 

Let  there  be  110  God ! 

Let  there  be  money,  business,  imports,  exports,  custom, 
authority,  precedents,  pallor,  dyspepsia,  smut, 
ignorance,  unbelief! 

Let  judges  and  criminals  be  transposed !  let  the  prison- 
keepers  be  put  in  prison !  let  those  that  were 
prisoners  take  the  keys !  (Say  I  why  might  they 
not  just  as  well  be  transposed  ?) 

Let  the  slaves  be  masters !  let  the  masters  become  slaves ! 

Let  the  reformers  descend  from  the  stands  where  they 
are  forever  bawling!  let  an  idiot  or  insane 
person  appear  on  each  of  the  stands  ! 

Let  the  Asiatic,  the  African,  the  European,  the  Ameri 
can,  and  the  Australian,  go  armed  against  the 
murderous  stealthiness  of  each  other!  let  them 
sleep  armed  !  let  none  believe  in  good  will ! 

Let  there  be  no  unfashionable  wisdom!  let  such  be 
scorn'd  and  derided  off  from  the  earth ! 

Let  a  floating  cloud  in  the  sky — let  a  wave  of  the  sea — 
let  growing  mint,  spinach,  onions,  tomatoes — 
let  these  be  exhibited  as  shows,  at  a  great  price 
for  admission ! 

Let  all  the  men  of  These  States  stand  aside  for  a  few 
smouchers!  let  the  few  seize  on  what  they 
choose !  let  the  rest  gawk,  giggle,  starve,  obey ! 


336  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Let  shadows  be  furnish'd  with  genitals  !  let  substances 

be  deprived  of  their  genitals  ! 
Let   there   be  wealthy  and  immense   cities — but  still 

through  any  of  them,  not  a  single  poet,  savior, 

knower,  lover ! 

Let  the  infidels  of  These  States  laugh  all  faith  away ! 
If  one  man  be  found  who  has  faith,  let  the  rest  set  upon 

him ! 
Let  them  affright  faith !  let  them  destroy  the  power  of 

breeding  faith ! 
Let  the  she-harlots  and  the  he-harlots  be  prudent !  let 

them  dance  on,  while  seeming  lasts !  (O  seeming ! 

seeming !  seeming ! ) 
Let  the  preachers  recite  creeds !   let  them  still  teach 

only  what  they  have  been  taught ! 
Let  insanity  still  have  charge  of  sanity ! 
Let  books  take  the  place  of  trees,  animals,  rivers,  clouds ! 
Let  the  daub'd  portraits  of  heroes  supersede  heroes  ! 
Let  the  manhood  of  man  never  take  steps  after  itself ! 
Let  it  take  steps  after  eunuchs,  and  after  consumptive 

and  genteel  persons ! 
Let  the  white  person   again  tread  the  black  person 

under  his  heel !     (Say !  which  is  trodden  under 

heel,  after  all  ?) 
Let  the  reflections  of  the  things  of  the  world  be  studied 

in  mirrors !  let  the  things  themselves  still  con 
tinue  unstudied ! 

Let  a  man  seek  pleasure  everywhere  except  in  himself ! 
Let  a  woman   seek  happiness   everywhere   except  in 

herself ! 
(What  real  happiness  have  you  had  one  single  hour 

through  your  whole  life  ?) 
Let  the  limited  years  of  life  do  nothing  for  the  limitless 

years  of  death !     ("What  do  you  suppose  death 

will  do,  then  ?) 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  337 


TURN  O  LIBERTAD. 

TURN,  O  Libertad,  for  the  war  is  over, 

(From  it  and  all  henceforth  expanding,  doubting  no 

more,  resolute,  sweeping  the  world,) 
Turn  from  lands  retrospective,  recording  proofs  of  the 

past; 
From  the  singers  that  sing  the  trailing  glories  of  the 

past ; 
From  the  chants  of  the  feudal  world — the  triumphs  of 

kings,  slavery,  caste  ; 
Turn  to  the  world,  the  triumphs  reserv'd  and  to  come — 

give  up  that  backward  world  ; 
Leave  to  the  singers  of  hitherto — give  them  the  trailing 

past ; 
But  what  remains,  remains  for  singers  for  you — wars 

to  come  are  for  you  ; 
(Lo  !  how  the  wars  of  the  past  have  duly  inured  to  you 

— and  the  wars  of  the  present  also  inure  :) 
— Then  turn,  and  be  not  alarm'd,  O  Libertad — turn 

your  undying  face, 

To  where  the  future,  greater  than  all  the  past, 
Is  swiftly,  surely  preparing  for  you. 


ADIEU  TO  A  SOLDIER. 


1  ADIEU,  O  soldier ! 

You  of  the  rude  campaigning,  (which  we  shared,) 

The  rapid  march,  the  life  of  the  camp, 

The   hot    contention   of    opposing    fronts  —  the    long 

manceuver, 
Red  battles  with  their  slaughter, — the  stimulus — the 

strong,  terrific  game, 
Spell  of  all  brave  and  manly  hearts — the  trains  of  Time 

through  you,  and  like  of  you,  all  filTd, 
With  war,  and  war's  expression. 
15 


338  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

2  Adieu,  dear  comrade  ! 

Your  mission  is  fulfill'd — but  I,  more  warlike, 

Myself,  and  this  contentious  soul  of  mine, 

Still  on  our  own  campaigning  bound, 

Through    untried    roads,  with    ambushes,   opponents 

lined, 
Through  many  a  sharp  defeat  and  many  a  crisis — often 

baffled, 
Here  marching,  ever  marching  on,  a  war  fight  out — 

aye  here, 
To  fiercer,  weightier  battles  give  expression. 


As  I  Walk  These  Broad,  Majestic  Days. 

1  As  I  walk  these  broad,  majestic  days  of  peace, 

(For  the  war,  the  struggle  of  blood  finish'd,  wherein,  O 
terrific  Ideal ! 

Against  vast  odds,  having  gloriously  won, 

Now  thou  stridest  on — yet  perhaps  in  time  toward 
denser  wars, 

Perhaps  to  engage  in  time  in  still  more  dreadful  con 
tests,  dangers, 

Longer  campaigns  and  crises,  labors  beyond  all  others  ;) 

— As  I  walk,  solitary,  unattended, 

Around  me  I  hear  that  eclat  of  the  world — politics, 
produce, 

The  announcements  of  recognized  things — science, 

The  approved  growth  of  cities,  and  the  spread  of  inven 
tions. 

2  I  see  the  ships,  (they  will  last  a  few  years,) 

The  vast  factories,  with  their  foremen  and  workmen, 
And  hear  the  indorsement  of  all,  and  do  not  object  to 
it. 

3  But  I  too  announce  solid  things  ; 

Science,  ships,  politics,  cities,  factories,  are  not  nothing 
— I  watch  them, 


MARCHES  NOW  THE  WAR  is  OVER.  339 

Like  a  grand  procession,  to  music  of  distant  bugles, 
pouring,  triumphantly  moving — and  grander 
heaving  in  sight ; 

They  stand  for  realities — all  is  as  it  should  be. 

4  Then  my  realities  ; 

What  else  is  so  real  as  mine  ? 

Libertad,  and  the  divine  average — Freedom  to  every 

slave  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
The  rapt  promises  and  lumine  of  seers — the  spiritual 

world — these  centuries-lasting  songs, 
And  our  visions,  the  visions  of  poets,  the  most  solid 

announcements  of  any. 

5  For  we  support  all,  fuse  all, 

After  the  rest  is  done  and  gone,  we  remain  ; 
There  is  no  final  reliance  but  upon  us  ; 
Democracy  rests  finally  upon  us,  (I,  my  brethren,  be 
gin  it,) 
And  our  visions  sweep  through  eternity. 


WEAVE  IN,  WEAVE  IN,  MY  HARDY  LIFE. 

WEAVE  in  !  weave  in,  my  hardy  life  ! 

Weave  yet  a  soldier  strong  and  full,  for  great  campaigns 

to  come  ; 
Weave  in  red  blood !  weave  sinews  in,  like  ropes  !  the 

senses,  sight  weave  in  ! 
Weave  lasting  sure  !  weave  day  and  night  the  weft,  the 

warp,  incessant  weave !  tire  not ! 
(We  know  not  what  the  use,  O  life  !  nor  know  the  aim, 

the  end — nor  really  aught  we  know ; 
But  know  the  work,  the  need  goes  on,  and  shall  go  on 

— the  death-envelop'd  march  of  peace  as  well  as 

war  goes  on  ;) 
For  great  campaigns  of  peace  the  same,  the  wiry  threads 

to  weave ; 
We  know  not  why  or  what,  yet  weave,  forever  weave. 


340  LEAVES  or  GKASS. 


RACE  OF  VETERANS. 

RACE  of  veterans  !     Race  of  victors  ! 
Eace  of  the  soil,  ready  for  conflict !  race  of  the  conquer 
ing  march ! 

(No  more  credulity's  race,  abiding-temper'd  race  ;) 
Race  henceforth  owning  no  law  but  the  law  of  itself  ; 
Race  of  passion  and  the  storm. 


O  SUN  OF  REAL  PEACE. 

O  SUN  of  real  peace  !  O  hastening  light ! 

O  free  and  extatic !  O  what  I  here,  preparing,  warble 
for! 

O  the  sun  of  the  world  will  ascend,  dazzling,  and  take 
his  height — and  you  too,  O  my  Ideal,  will  surely 
ascend ! 

O  so  amazing  and  broad — up  there  resplendent,  dart 
ing  and  burning ! 

O  vision  prophetic,  stagger'd  with  weight  of  light !  with 
pouring  glories ! 

O  lips  of  my  soul,  already  becoming  powerless ! 

O  ample  and  grand  Presidentiads !  Now  the  war,  the 
war  is  over ! 

New  history !  new  heroes  !  I  project  you ! 

Visions  of  poets !  only  you  really  last !  sweep  on !  sweep 
on! 

O  heights  too  swift  and  dizzy  yet ! 

O  purged  and  luminous !  you  threaten  me  more  than  I 
can  stand ! 

(I  must  not  venture — the  ground  under  my  feet  men 
aces  me — it  will  not  support  me  : 

O  future  too  immense,)— 0  present,  I  return,  while  yet 
I  may,  to  you. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


THIS  COMPOST. 


1  SOMETHING  startles  me  where  I  thought  I  was  safest ; 
I  withdraw  from  the  still  woods  I  loved  ; 
I  will  not  go  now  on  the  pastures  to  walk  ; 
I  will  not  strip  the  clothes  from  my  body  to  meet  my 
lover  the  sea ; 

1  will  not  touch  my  flesh  to  the  earth,  as  to  other  flesh, 

to  renew  me. 

2  O  how  can  it  be  that  the  ground  does  not  sicken  ? 
How  can  you  be  alive,  you  growths  of  spring  ? 

How  can  you  furnish  health,  you  blood  of  herbs,  roots, 

orchards,  grain? 
Are  they  not  continually  putting  distemper'd  corpses 

within  you  ? 
Is  not  every  continent  work'd  over  and  over  with  sour 

dead? 

3  Where  have  you  disposed  of  their  carcasses  ? 
Those  drunkards  and  gluttons  of  so  many  generations  ; 
Where  have  you  drawn  off  all  the  foul  liquid  and  meat  ? 
I  do  not  see  any  of  it  upon  you  to-day — or  perhaps  I  am 

deceiv'd  ; 

I  will  run  a  furrow  with  my  plough — I  will  press  my 
spade  through  the  sod,  and  turn  it  up  under 
neath  ; 

I  am  sure  I  shall  expose  some  of  the  foul  meat. 


342  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 


4  Behold  this  compost !  behold  it  well ! 

Perhaps  every  mite  has  once  form'd  part  of  a  sick  per 
son — Yet  behold ! 

The  grass  of  spring  covers  the  prairies, 

The  bean  bursts  noiselessly  through  the  mould  in  the 
garden, 

The  delicate  spear  of  the  onion  pierces  upward, 

The  apple-buds  cluster  together  on  the  apple-branches, 

The  resurrection  of  the  wheat  appears  with  pale  visage 
out  of  its  graves, 

The  tinge  awakes  over  the  willow-tree  and  the  mul 
berry-tree, 

The  he-birds  carol  mornings  and  evenings,  while  the 
she-birds  sit  on  their  nests, 

The  young  of  poultry  break  through  the  hatch5  d  eggs, 

The  new-born  of  animals  appear — the  calf  is  dropt  from 
the  cow,  the  colt  from  the  mare, 

Out  of  its  little  hill  faithfully  rise  the  potato's  dark 
green  leaves, 

Out  of  its  hill  rises  the  yellow  maize-stalk — the  lilacs 
bloom  in  the  door-yards  ; 

The  summer  growth  is  innocent  and  disdainful  above 
all  those  strata  of  sour  dead. 

6  What  chemistry ! 

That  the  winds  are  really  not  infectious, 

That  this  is  no  cheat,  this  transparent  green-wash  of 
the  sea,  which  is  so  amorous  after  me, 

That  it  is  safe  to  allow  it  to  lick  my  naked  body  all  over 
with  its  tongues, 

That  it  will  not  endanger  me  with  the  fevers  that  have 
deposited  themselve's  in  it, 

That  all  is  clean  forever  and  forever, 

That  the  cool  drink  from  the  well  tastes  so  good, 

That  blackberries  are  so  flavorous  and  juicy, 

That  the  fruits  of  the  apple-orchard,  and  of  the  orange- 
orchard — that  melons,  grapes,  peaches,  plums, 
will  none  of  them  poison  me, 

That  when  I  recline  on  the  grass  I  do  not  catch  any 


LEAVES  OF  GBASS.  343 

Though  probably  every  spear  of  grass  rises  out  of  what 
was  once  a  catching  disease. 


6  Now  I  am  terrified  at  the  Earth !  it  is  that  calm  and 

patient, 

It  grows  such  sweet  things  out  of  such  corruptions, 
It  turns  harmless  and  stainless  on  its  axis,  with  such 

endless  successions  of  diseased  corpses, 
It  distils  such  exquisite  winds  out  of  such  infused  fetor, 
It  renews  with  such  unwitting  looks,  its  prodigal,  an 
nual,  sumptuous  crops, 

It  gives  such  divine  materials  to  men,  and  accepts  such 
leavings  from  them  at  last. 


UNNAMED  LANDS. 

1  NATIONS  ten  thousand  years  before  These  States,  and 

many  times  ten  thousand  years  before  These 

States ; 
Garner'd  clusters  of  ages,  that  men  and  women  like  us 

grew  up  and  travel'd  their  course,  and  pass'd  on  ; 
What  vast-built  cities — what  orderly  republics — what 

pastoral  tribes  and  nomads  ; 
What  histories,  rulers,  heroes,  perhaps  transcending  all 

others ; 

What  laws,  customs,  wealth,  arts,  traditions  ; 
What  sort  of  marriage — what  costumes— what  physi 
ology  and  phrenology ; 
What  of  liberty  and  slavery  among  them— what  they 

thought  of  death  and  the  soul ; 
Who  were  witty  and  wise  —who  beautiful  and  poetic — 

who  brutish  and  undevelop'd  ; 
Not  a  mark,  not  a  record  remains — And  yet  all  remains. 

2  O  I  know  that  those  men  and  women  were  not  for 

nothing,  any  more  than  we  are  for  nothing  ; 


344  LEAVES  or  GEASS. 

I  know  that  they  belong  to  the  scheme  of  the  world 
every  bit  as  much  as  we  now  belong  to  it,  and  as 
all  will  henceforth  belong  to  it. 

8  Afar  they  stand — yet  near  to  me  they  stand, 
Some  with  oval  countenances,  learn'd  and  calm, 
Some  naked  and  savage — Some  like  huge  collections  of 

insects, 

Some  in  tents — herdsmen,  patriarchs,  tribes,  horsemen, 
Some  prowling  through  woods — Some  living  peaceably 

on  farms,  laboring,  reaping,  filling  barns, 
Some  traversing  paved  avenues,  amid  temples,  palaces, 
factories,  libraries,  shows,  courts,  theatres,  won 
derful  monuments. 

4  Are  those  billions  of  men  really  gone  ? 

Are  those  women  of  the  old  experience  of  the  earth 

gone? 

Do  their  lives,  cities,  arts,  rest  only  with  us  ? 
Did  they  achieve  nothing  for  good,  for  themselves  ? 

6  I  believe  of  all  those  billions  of  men  and  women  that 
fill'd  the  unnamed  lands,  every  one  exists  this 
hour,  here  or  elsewhere,  invisible  to  us,  in  exact 
proportion  to  what  he  or  she  grew  from  in  life, 
and  out  of  what  he  or  she  did,  felt,  became,  loved, 
sinn'd,  in  life. 

6  I  believe  that  was  not  the  end  of  those  nations,  or  any 
person  of  them,  any  more  than  this  shall  be  the 
end  of  my  nation,  or  of  me  ; 

Of  their  languages,  governments,  marriage,  literature, 
products,  games,  wars,  manners,  crimes,  prisons, 
slaves,  heroes,  poets,  I  suspect  their  results 
curiously  await  in  the  yet  unseen  world — coun 
terparts  of  what  accrued  to  them  in  the  seen 
world, 

I  suspect  I  shall  meet  them  there, 

I  suspect  I  shall  there  find  each  old  particular  of  those 
unnamed  lands. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  345 


MANNAHATTA. 

1  I  WAS  asking  for  something  specific  and  perfect  for 

my  city, 
Whereupon,  lo !  upsprang  the  aboriginal  name ! 

a  Now  I  see  what  there  is  in  a  name,  a  word,  liquid, 
sane,  unruly,  musical,  self-sufficient ; 

I  see  that  the  word  of  my  city  is  that  word  up  there, 

Because  I  see  that  word  nested  in  nests  of  water-bays, 
superb,  with  tall  and  wonderful  spires, 

Rich,  hemm'd  thick  all  around  with  sailships  and 
steamships — an  island  sixteen  miles  long,  solid- 
founded, 

Numberless  crowded  streets — high  growths  of  iron, 
slender,  strong,  light,  splendidly  uprising  to 
ward  clear  skies  ; 

Tides  swift  and  ample,  well-loved  by  me,  toward  sun 
down, 

The  flowing  sea-currents,  the  little  islands,  larger  ad 
joining  islands,  the  heights,  the  villas, 

The  countless  masts,  the  white  shore-steamers,  the  light 
ers,  the  ferry-boats,  the  black  sea-steamers,  well- 
model'd  ; 

The  down-town  streets,  the  jobbers'  houses  of  business 
— the  houses  of  business  of  the  ship-merchants, 
and  money-brokers — the  river-streets  ; 

Immigrants  arriving,  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  in  a 
week  ; 

The  carts  hauling  goods — the  manly  race  of  drivers  of 
horses — the  brown-faced  sailors  ; 

The  summer  air,  the  bright  sun  shining,  and  the  sail 
ing  clouds  aloft ; 

The  winter  snows,  the  sleigh-bells — the  broken  ice  in 
the  river,  passing  along,  up  or  down,  with  the 
flood-tide  or  ebb-tide ; 

The  mechanics  of  the  city,  the  masters,  well-form'd, 
beautiful-faced,  looking  you  straight  in  the  eyes  ; 

Trottoirs  throng'd — vehicles — Broadway — the  women — 
the  shops  and  shows, 


346  LEAVES  or  GRASS. 

The  parades,  processions,  bugles  playing,   flags  flying, 

drums  beating  ; 
A  million  people  —  manners  free   and  superb — open 

Toices — hospitality — the   most    courageous  and 

friendly  young  men  ; 

The  free  city  !  no  slaves  !  no  owners  of  slaves  ! 
The  beautiful  city,  the  city  of  hurried  and  sparkling 

waters !  the  city  of  spires  and  masts ! 
The  city  nested  in  bays !  my  city !  ^  ^ 

The  city  of  such  women,  I  am  mad  to  be  with  them ! 

I  will  return  after  death  to  be  with  them ! 
The   city  of  such  young  men,  I  swear  I  cannot  live 

happy,  without  I  often  go  talk,  walk,  eat,  drink, 

sleep,  with  them ! 


OLD  IRELAND. 

1  FAB  hence,  amid  an  isle  of  wondrous  beauty, 
Crouching  over  a  grave,  an  ancient  sorrowful  mother, 
Once   a  queen — now  lean  and  tatter'd,  seated  on  the 

ground, 

Her  old  white  hair  drooping  dishevel'd  round  her  shoul 
ders  ; 

At  her  feet  fallen  an  unused  royal  harp, 

Long  silent — she  too  long  silent — mourning  her  shroud 
ed  hope  and  heir  ; 

Of  all  the  earth  her  heart  most  full  of  sorrow,  because 
most  full  of  love. 

2  Yet  a  word,  ancient  mother  ; 

You  need  crouch  there  no  longer  on  the  cold  ground, 
with  forehead  between  your  knees  ; 

O  you  need  not  sit  there,  veil'd  in  your  old  white  hair, 
so  dishevel'd ; 

For  know  you,  the  one  you  mourn  is  not  in  that  grave  ; 

It  was  an  illusion — the  heir,  the  son  you  love,  was  not 
really  dead ; 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  347 

The  Lord  is  not  dead — he  is  risen  again,  young  and 

strong,  in  another  country  ; 
Even  while  you  wept  there  by  your  fallen  harp,  by  the 

grave, 
What  you  wept  for,  was  translated,  pass'd  from  the 

grave, 

The  winds  favor'd,  and  the  sea  sail'd  it, 
And  now  with  rosy  and  new  blood, 
Moves  to-day  in  a  new  country. 


To  ORATISTS 

1  To  ORATISTS — to  male  or  female, 

Vocalism,  measure,  concentration,  determination,  and 
the  divine  power  to  use  words. 

2  Are  you  full-lung'd  and  limber-lipp'd  from  long  trial  ? 

from  vigorous  practice  ?  from  physique  ? 
Do  you  move  in  these  broad  lands  as  broad  as  they  ? 
Come  duly  to  the  divine  power  to  use  words  ? 

8  For  only  at  last,  after  many  years — after  chastity, 
friendship,  procreation,  prudence,  and  nakedness; 

After  treading  ground  and  breasting  river  and  lake ; 

After  a  loosen'd  throat — after  absorbing  eras,  tempera 
ments,  races — after  knowledge,  freedom,  crimes  ; 

After  complete  faith — after  clarifyings,  elevations,  and 
removing  obstructions  ; 

After  these,  and  more,  it  is  just  possible  there  comes  to 
a  man,  a  woman,  the  divine  power  to  use  words. 

4  Then  toward  that  man  or  that  woman,  swiftly  hasten 
all — None  refuse,  all  attend  ; 

Armies,  ships,  antiquities,  the  dead,  libraries,  paintings, 
machines,  cities,  hate,  despair,  amity,  pain,  theft, 
murder,  aspiration,  form  in  close  ranks  ; 


348  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

They  debouch  as  they  are  wanted  to  inarch  obediently 
through  the  mouth  of  that  man,  or  that  woman. 

6 O  I  see  arise  orators  fit  for  inland  America  ; 

And  I  see  it  is  as  slow  to  become  an  orator  as  to  be 
come  a  man ; 
And  I  see  that  all  power  is  folded  in  a  great  vocalism. 

6  Of  a  great  vocalism,  the  merciless  light  thereof  shall 

pour,  and  the  storm  rage, 
Every  flash  shall  be  a  revelation,  an  insult, 
The  glaring  flame  on  depths,  on  heights,  on  suns,  on 

stars, 

On  the  interior  and  exterior  of  man  or  woman, 
On  the  laws  of  Nature — on  passive  materials, 
On  what  you  called  death — (and  what  to  you  therefore 

was  death, 
As  far  as  there  can  be  death.) 


SOLID,  IRONICAL,  ROLLING  ORB. 

SOLED,  ironical,  rolling  orb ! 

Master  of  all,  and  matter  of  fact ! — at  last  I  accept  your 

terms  ; 
Bringing  to  practical,  vulgar  tests,  of  all  my  ideal 

dreams, 
And  of  me,  as  lover  and  hero. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


BATHED  IN  WAR'S  PERFUME. 


BATHED  IN  WAR'S  PERFUME. 

BATHED  in  war's  perfume — delicate  flag ! 

(Should  the  days  needing  armies,  needing  fleets,  come^ 

again,) 
0  to  hear  you  call  the  sailors  and  the  soldiers !  flag  like 

a  beautiful  woman ! 
O  to  hear  the  tramp,  tramp,  of  a  million  answering 

men  !  O  the  ships  they  arm  with  joy ! 
0  to  see  you  leap  and  beckon  from  the  tall  masts  of 

ships  !* 

O  to  see  you  peering  down  on  the  sailors  on  the  decks ! 
Flag  like  the  eyes  of  women. 


DELICATE  CLUSTER. 

DELICATE  cluster !  flag  of  teeming  life ! 

Covering  all  my  lands !  all  my  sea-shores  lining ! 

Flag  of  death  !  (how  I  watch'd  you  through  the  smoke 
of  battle  pressing ! 

How  I  heard  you  flap  and  rustle,  cloth  defiant !) 

Flag  cerulean  !  sunny  flag !  with  the  orbs  of  night  dap 
pled! 

Ah  my  silvery  beauty !  ah  my  woolly  white  and  crim 
son! 

Ah  to  sing  the  song  of  you,  my  matron  mighty ! 

My  sacred  one,  my  mother. 


350  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

SONG  OF  THE  BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK. 

POET. 

1  O  A  new  song,  a  free  song, 

Flapping,  flapping,  flapping,  flapping,  by  sounds,  by 

voices  clearer, 

By  the  wind's  voice  and  that  of  the  drum, 
By  the  banner's  voice,  and  child's  voice,  and  sea's  voice, 

and  father's  voice, 

Low  on  the  ground  and  high  in  the  air, 
On  the  ground  where  father  and  child  stand, 
In  the  upward  air  where  their  eyes  turn, 
Where  the  banner  at  day-break  is  flapping. 

2  Words!  book-words  !  what  are  you? 
Words  no  more,  for  hearken  and  see, 

My  song  is  there  in  the  open  air — and  I  must  sing, 
With  the  banner  and  pennant  a-flapping. 

8  I'll  weave  the  chord  and  twine  in, 

Man's  desire  and  babe's  desire — I'll  twine^them  in,  I'll 
put  in  life ; 

I'll  put  the  bayonet's  flashing  point — I'll  let  bullets  and 
slugs  whizz  ; 

(As  one  carrying  a  symbol  and  menace,  far  into  the 
future, 

Crying  with  trumpet  voice,  Arouse  and  beware  !  Beware 
and  arouse  !) 

I'll  pour  the  verse  with  streams  of  blood,  full  of  voli 
tion,  full  of  joy  ; 

Then  loosen,  launch  forth,  to  go  and  compete, 

With  the  banner  and  pennant  a-flapping. 

PENNANT. 

4  Come  up  here,  bard,  bard  ; 
Come  up  here,  soul,  soul ; 
Come  up  here,  dear  little  child, 

To  fly  in  the  clouds  and  winds  with  me,  and  play  with 
the  measureless  light. 


SONG  OF  THE  BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  351 

CHILD. 

5  Father,  what  is  that  in  the  sky  beckoning  to  me  with 

long  finger  ? 
And  what  does  it  say  to  me  all  the  while  ? 

FATHER. 

6  Nothing,  my  babe,  you  see  in  the  sky  ; 

And  nothing  at  all  to  you  it  says.     But  look  you,  my 

babe, 
Look  at  these  dazzling  things  in  the  houses,  and  see 

you  the  money-shops  opening  ; 
And  see  you  the  vehicles  preparing  to  crawl  along  the 

streets  with  goods  : 

These !  ah,  these !  how  valued  and  toil'd  for,  these ! 
How  envied  by  all  the  earth ! 

POET. 

7  Fresh  and  rosy  red,  the  sun  is  mounting  high  ; 

On  floats  the  sea  in  distant  blue,  careering  through  its 

channels  ; 
On  floats  the  wind  over  the  breast  of  the  sea,  setting  in 

toward  land  ; 

The  great  steady  wind  from  west  and  west-by-south, 
Floating  so  buoyant,   with  milk-white    foam  on  the 

waters. 

8  But  I  am  not  the  sea,  nor  the  red  sun  ; 
I  am  not  the  wind,  with  girlish  laughter  ; 

Not  the  immense  wind  which  strengthens — not  the  wind 

which  lashes  ; 
Not  the  spirit  that  ever  lashes  its  own  body  to  terror 

and  death ; 
But  I  am  that  which  unseen  comes  and  sings,  sings, 

sings, 
Which  babbles  in  brooks  and  scoots  in  showers  on  the 

land, 
"Which  the  birds  know  in  the  woods,  mornings  and 

evenings, 


352  LEAVES  OP  GRASS. 

And  the  shore-sands  know,  and  the  hissing  wave,  and 

that  banner  and  pennant, 
Aloft  there  flapping  and  flapping. 

CHILD. 

9  O  father,  it  is  alive — it  is  full  of  people — it  has  chil 

dren! 

0  now  it  seems  to  me  it  is  talking  to  its  children ! 

1  hear  it — it  talks  to  me — O  it  is  wonderful ! 

O  it  stretches — it  spreads  and  runs  so  fast!     O  my 

father, 
It  is  so  broad,  it  covers  the  whole  sky ! 

FATHER. 

10  Cease,  cease,  my  foolish  babe, 

What  you  are  saying  is  sorrowful  to  me — much  it  dis 
pleases  me ; 

Behold  with  the  rest,  again  I  say — behold  not  banners 
and  pennants  aloft ; 

But  the  well-prepared  pavements  behold — and  mark  the 
solid-wall'd  houses. 


BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

11  Speak  to  the  child,  O  bard,  out  of  Manhattan  ; 

(The  war  is  over — yet  never  over  ....  out  of  it,  we  are 
born  to  real  life  and  identity  ;) 

Speak  to  our  children  all,  or  north  or  south  of  Man 
hattan, 

Where  our  factory-engines  hum,  where  our  miners 
delve  the  ground, 

Where  our  hoarse  Niagara  rumbles,  where  our  prairie- 
plows  are  plowing ; 

Speak,  O  bard !  point  this  day,  leaving  all  the  rest,  to 
us  over  all — and  yet  we  know  not  why  ; 

For  what  are  we,  mere  strips  of  cloth,  profiting  nothing, 

Only  flapping  in  the  wind  ? 


SONG  OF  THE  BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  353 


POET. 

12  I  hear  and  see  not  strips  of  cloth  alone  ; 

I  hear  again  the  tramp  of  armies,  I  hear  the  challenging 

sentry ; 
I  hear  the  jubilant  shouts  of  millions  of  men — I  hear 

I/IBERTY  ! 

I  hear  the  drums  beat,  and  the  trumpets  yet  blowing  ; 

I  myself  move  abroad,  swift-rising,  flying  then  ; 

I  use  the  wings  of  the  land-bird,  and  use  the  wings  of 

the  sea-bird,  and  look  down  as  from  a  height ; 
I  do  not  deny  the  precious  results  of  peace — I  see  pop 
ulous  cities,  with  wealth  incalculable  ; 
I  see  numberless  farms — I  see  the  farmers  working  in 

their  fields  or  barns  ; 
I  see  mechanics  working — I  see  buildings  everywhere 

founded,  going  up,  or  finish'd  ; 
I  see  trains  of  cars  swiftly  speeding  along  railroad 

tracks,  drawn  by  the  locomotives  ; 
I  see  the  stores,  depots,  of  Boston,  Baltimore,  Charles 
ton,  New  Orleans  ; 
I  see  far  in  the  west  the  immense  area  of  grain — I 

dwell  awhile,  hovering ; 
I  pass  to  the  lumber  forests  of  the  north,  and  again  to 

the  southern  plantation,  and  again  to  California  ; 
Sweeping  the  whole,  I  see  the  countless  profit,  the  busy 

gatherings,  earned  wages  ; 
See  the  identity  formed  out  of  thirty-eight  spacious  and 

haughty  States,  (and  many  more  to  come  ;) 
See  forts  on  the  shores  of  harbors — see  ships  sailing  in 

and  out ; 
Then  over  all,  (aye !    aye !)  my  little  and  lengthen'd 

pennant  shaped  like  a  sword, 
Buns  swiftly  up,  indicating  war  and  defiance — And  now 

the  halyards  have  rais'd  it, 
Side  of  my  banner  broad  and  blue — side  of  my  starry 

banner, 
Discarding  peace  over  all  the  sea  and  land. 


354  LEAVES  OF  GEASS. 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

13  Yet  louder,  higher,  stronger,  bard !  yet  farther,  wider 

cleave ! 
No  longer  let  our  children  deem  us  riches  and  peace 

alone ; 

We  may  be  terror  and  carnage,  and  are  so  now  ; 
Not  now  are  we  any  one  of  these  spacious  and  haughty 

States,  (nor  any  five,  nor  ten  ;) 
Nor  market  nor  depot  are  we,  nor  money-bank  in  the 

city  ; 
But  these,  and  all,  and  the  brown  and  spreading  land, 

and  the  mines  below,  are  ours  ; 
And  the  shores  of  the  sea  are  ours,  and  the  rivers  great 

and  small ; 
And  the  fields  they  moisten  are  ours,  and  the  crops  and 

the  fruits  are  ours  ; 
Bays  and  channels,  and  ships  sailing  in  and  out,  are 

ours — and  we  over  all, 
Over  the  area  spread  below,  the  three  or  four  millions 

of  square  miles — the  capitals, 
The  forty  millions  of  people — O  bard !  in  lif e  and  death 

supreme, 
We,  even  we,  henceforth  flaunt  out  masterful,  high  up 

above, 

Not  for  the  present  alone,  for  a  thousand  years,  chant 
ing  through  you, 
This  song  to  the  soul  of  one  poor  little  child. 

CHILD. 

0 

14  O  my  father,  I  like  not  the  houses  ; 

They  will  never  to  me  be  anything — nor   do  I  like 

money ; 
But  to  mount  up  there  I  would  like,  O  father  dear — 

that  banner  I  like  ; 
That  pennant  I  would  be,  and  must  be. 

FATHEB. 

15  Child  of  mine,  you  fill  me  with  anguish  ; 
To  be  that  pennant  would  be  too  fearful ; 


SONG  or  THE  BANNER  AT  DAY-BREAK.  355 

Little  you  know  what  it  is  this  day,  and  after  this  day, 

forever ; 

It  is  to  gain  nothing,  but  risk  and  defy  everything ; 
Forward  to  stand  in  front  of  wars — and  O,  such  wars  I 

— what  have  you  to  do  with  them  ? 
With  passions  of  demons,  slaughter,  premature  death  ? 

POET. 

18  Demons  and  death  then  I  sing  ; 

Put  in  all,  aye  all,  will  I — sword-shaped  pennant  for 

war,  and  banner  so  broad  and  blue, 
And  a  pleasure  new  and  extatic,  and  the  prattled  yearn 
ing  of  children, 
Blent  with  the  sounds  of  the  peaceful  land,  and  the 

liquid  wash  of  the  sea  ; 
And  the  black  ships,  fighting  on  the  sea,  enveloped  in 

smoke  ; 
And  the  icy  cool  of  the  far,  far  north,  with  rustling 

cedars  and  pines ; 
And  the  whirr  of  drums,  and  the  sound  of  soldiers 

marching,  and  the  hot  sun  shining  south  ; 
And  the  beach-waves  combing  over  the  beach  on  my 

eastern  shore,  and  my  western  shore  the  same  ; 
And  all  between  those  shores,  and  my  ever  running 

Mississippi,  with  bends  and  chutes  ; 
And  my  Illinois  fields,  and  my  Kansas  fields,  and  my 

fields  of  Missouri ; 
The  CONTINENT — devoting  the  whole  identity,  without 

reserving  an  atom, 
Pour  in  !  whelm  that  which  asks,  which  sings,  with  all, 

and  the  yield  of  all. 

BANNER  AND  PENNANT. 

17  Aye  all !  for  ever,  for  all ! 

From  sea  to  sea,  north  and  south,  east  and  west, 

(The  war  is  completed,  the  price  is  paid,  the  title  is 

settled  beyond  recall ;) 

Fusing  and  holding,  claiming,  devouring  the  whole  ; 
No  more  with  tender  lip,  nor  musical  labial  sound, 


356  LEAVES  or  GEASS. 

But,  out  of  the  night  emerging  for  good,  our  voice  per 
suasive  no  more, 
Croaking  like  crows  here  in  the  wind. 

POET. 

(Finale.) 

18  My  limbs,  my  veins  dilate  ; 

The  blood  of  the  world  has  filTd  me  full — my  theme  is 

clear  at  last : 
— Banner  so  broad,  advancing  out  of  the  night,  I  sing 

you  haughty  and  resolute  ; 
I  burst  through  where  I  waited  long,  too  long,  deafen'd 

and  blinded  ; 
My  sight,  my  hearing  and  tongue,  are  come  to  me,  (a 

little  child  taught  me  ;) 
I  hear  from  above,  O  pennant  of  war,  your  ironical  call 

and  demand  ; 
Insensate  !  insensate !  (yet  I  at  any  rate  chant  you,)  O 

banner ! 
Not  houses  of  peace  indeed  are  you,  nor  any  nor  all 

their  prosperity,   (if  need  be,  you  shall    again 

have  every  one  of  those  houses  to  destroy  them; 
You  thought  not   to   destroy   those   valuable  houses, 

standing  fast,  full  of  comfort,  built  with  money  ; 
May  they  stand  fast,  then  ?     Not  an  hour,  except  you, 

above  them  and  all,  stand  fast ;) 
— O  banner !  not  money  so  precious  are  you,  not  farm 

produce  you,  nor  the  material  good  nutriment, 
Nor  excellent  stores,  nor  landed  on  wharves  from  the 

ships  ; 
Not  the  superb  ships,  with  sail-power  or  steam-power, 

fetching  and  carrying  cargoes, 
Nor  machinery,    vehicles,    trade,   nor  revenues, — But 

you,  as  henceforth  I  see  you, 
Running  up  out  of  the  night,  bringing  your  cluster  of 

stars,  (ever-enlarging  stars  ;) 
Divider  of  day-break  you,  cutting  the  air,  touch'd  by 

the  sun,  measuring  the  sky, 
(Passionately  seen  and  yearn'd  for  by  one  poor  little 

child, 


BATHED  IN  WAR'S  PERFUME.  357 

While  others  remain  busy,  or  smartly  talking,  forever 
teaching  thrift,  thrift  ;) 

0  you  up  there !  O  pennant !  where  you  undulate  like 

a  snake,  hissing  so  curious, 
Out  of  reach — an  idea  only — yet  furiously  fought  for, 

risking  bloody  death — loved  by  me ! 
So  loved !    O  you   banner  leading  the  day,  with  stars 

brought  from  the  night ! 
Valueless,  object  of  eyes,  over  all  and  demanding  all — 

(absolute  owner  of  ALL) — O  banner  and  pennant ! 

1  too  leave  the  rest — great  as  it  is,  it  is  nothing — houses, 

machines  are  nothing — I  see  them  not  ; 
I  see  but  you,  O  warlike  pennant !  O  banner  so  broad, 

with  stripes,  I  sing  you  only, 
Flapping  up  there  in  the  wind. 


ETHIOPIA  SALUTING  THE  COLORS. 


(A  Reminiscence  of  1864.) 
1 


WHO  are  you,  dusky  woman,  so  ancient,  hardly  human, 
With  your  woolly-white  and  turban'd  head,  and  bare 

bony  feet? 
Why,  rising  by  the  roadside  here,  do  you  the  colors 

greet? 


('Tis  while  our  army  lines  Carolina's  sand  and  pines, 
Forth  from  thy  hovel  door,  thou,  Ethiopia,  com'st  to  me, 
As,  under  doughty  Sherman,  I  march  toward  the  sea.) 


Me,  master,  years  a  hundred,  since  from  my  parents  sun- 

der'd, 

A  little  child,  they  caught  me  as  the  savage  beast  is  caught ; 
Then  hither  me,  across  the  sea,  the  cruel  slaver  brought. 


358  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

4 

No  further  does  she  say,  but  lingering  all  the  day, 
Her  high-borne  turban'd  head  she  wags,  and  rolls  her 

darkling  eye, 
And  curtseys  to  the  regiments,  the  guidons  moving  by. 

5 

What  is  it,  fateful  woman — so  blear,  hardly  human  ? 
Why  wag  your  head,  with  turban  bound — yellow,  red 

and  green  ?  . 
Are  the  things  so  strange  and  marvelous,  you  see  or 

have  seen  ? 


Lo!  Victress  on  the  Peaks! 

Lo !  Victress  on  the  peaks  ! 

Where  thou,  with  mighty  brow,  regarding  the  world, 

(The  world,  O  Libertad,  that  vainly  conspired  against 
thee ;) 

Out  of  its  countless,  beleaguering  toils,  after  thwarting 
them  all ; 

Dominant,  with  the  dazzling  sun  around  thee, 

Flauntest  now  unharm'd,  in  immortal  soundness  and 
bloom — lo !  in  these  hours  supreme, 

No  poem  proud,  I,  chanting,  bring  to  thee — nor  mas 
tery's  rapturous  verse  ; 

But  a  book,  containing  night's  darkness,  and  blood- 
dripping  wounds, 

And  psalms  of  the  dead. 


)  World,  Take  Good  Notice. 

WORLD,  take  good  notice,  silver  stars  fading, 
Milky  hue  ript,  weft  of  white  detaching, 
Coals  thirty-eight,  baleful  and  burning, 
Scarlet,  significant,  hands  off  warning, 
Now  and  henceforth  flaunt  from  these  shores. 


BATHED  IN  WAR'S  PERFUME.  359 


Thick-Sprinkled  Bunting. 

THICK-SPRINKLED  bunting !     Flag  of  stars ! 

Long  yet  your  road,  fateful  flag ! — long  yet  your  road, 

and  lined  with  bloody  death  ! 
For  the  prize  I  see  at  issue,  at  last  is  the  world ! 
All  its  ships   and  shores  I  see,  interwoven  with  your 

threads,  greedy  banner ! 
— Dream'd  again  the  flags  of  kings,  highest  borne,  to 

flaunt  unrival'd  ? 
O  hasten,  flag  of  man  !     O  with  sure  and  steady  step, 

passing  highest  flags  of  kings, 
Walk  supreme  to  the  heavens,  mighty  symbol — run  up 

above  them  all, 
Flag  of  stars !  thick-sprinkled  bunting ! 


360  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


A  HAND-MIRROR. 

HOLD  it  up  sternly !  See  this  it  sends  back !  (Who  is  it  ? 
Is  it  you  ?) 

Outside  fair  costume — within  ashes  and  filth, 

No  more  a  flashing  eye — no  more  a  sonorous  voice  or 
springy  step  ; 

Now  some  slave's  eye,  voice,  hands,  step, 

A  drunkard's  breath,  unwholesome  eater's  face,  vene- 
realee's  flesh, 

Lungs  rotting  away  piecemeal,  stomach  sour  and  can 
kerous, 

Joints  rheumatic,  bowels  clogged  with  abomination, 

Blood  circulating  dark  and  poisonous  streams, 

Words  babble,  hearing  and  touch  callous, 

No  brain,  no  heart  left — no  magnetism  of  sex  ; 

Such,  from  one  look  in  this  looking-glass  ere  you  go 
hence, 

Such  a  result  so  soon — and  from  such  a  beginning ! 


Germs. 

FORMS,  qualities,  lives,  humanity,  language,  thoughts, 

The  ones  known,  and  the  ones  unknown — the  ones  on 
the  stars, 

The  stars  themselves,  some  shaped,  others  unshaped, 

Wonders  as  of  those  countries — the  soil,  trees,  cities, 
inhabitants,  whatever  they  may  be, 

Splendid  suns,  the  moons  and  rings,  the  countless  com 
binations  and  effects  ; 

Such-like,  and  as  good  as  such-like,  visible  here  or  any 
where,  stand  provided  for  in  a  handful  of  space, 
which  I  extend  my  arm  and  half  enclose  with  my 
hand ; 

That  contains  the  start  of  each  and  all— the  virtue,  the 
germs  of  all. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


O  ME  !   O  LIFE ! 

O  ME  !  O  life !  ...  of  the  questions  of  these  recurring ; 
Of  the  endless  trains  of  the  faitljless — of  cities  fill'd  with 

the  foolish ; 
Of  myself  forever  reproaching  myself,  (for  who  more 

foolish  than  I,  and  who  more  faithless  ?) 
Of  eyes  that  vainly  crave  the  light — of  the  objects  mean 

— of  the  struggle  ever  renew'd  ; 
Of  the  poor  results  of  all — of  the  plodding  and  sordid 

crowds  I  see  around  me  ; 
Of  the  empty  and  useless  years  of  the  rest — with  the 

rest  me  intertwined ; 
The  question,  O  me!   so  sad,  recurring — What  good 

amid  these,  O  me,  O  life  ? 

Answer. 

That  you  are  here — that  life  exists,  and  identity  ; 
That  the  powerful  play  goes  on,  and  you  will  contribute 
a  verse. 


THOUGHTS. 

OF  Public  Opinion ; 

Of  a  calm  and  cool  fiat,  sooner  or  later,  (How  impas 
sive  !  How  certain  and  final !) 

Of  the  President  with  pale  face,  asking  secretly  to  him 
self,  What  will  the  people  say  at  last  ? 
16 


'362  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Of  the  frivolous  Judge — Of  the  corrupt  Congressman, 

Governor,  Mayor — Of  such  as  these,  standing 

helpless  and  exposed ; 
Of  the  mumbling  and  screaming  priest — (soon,  soon 

deserted ;) 
Of  the  lessening,  year  by  year,  of  venerableness,  and  of 

the  dicta  of  officers,  statutes,  pulpits,  schools  ; 
Of  the  rising  forever  taller  and  stronger  and  broader, 

of  the  intuitions  of  men  and  women,  and  of  self- 
esteem,  and  of  personality  ; 
— Of  the  New  World — Of  the  Democracies,  resplendent, 

en-masse  ; 
Of  the  conformity  of  politics,  armies,  navies,  to  them 

and  to  me, 
Of  the  shining  sun  by  them — Of  the  inherent  light, 

greater  than  the  rest, 
Of  the  envelopment  of  all  by  them,  and  of  the  effusion 

of  all  from  them. 


BEGINNERS. 

How  they  are  provided  for  upon  the  earth,  (appearing     * 

at  intervals  ;) 

How  dear  and  dreadful  they  are  to  the  earth  ; 
How  they  inure  to  themselves  as  much  as  to  any — 

What  a  paradox  appears,  their  age  ; 
How  people  respond  to  them,  yet  know  them  not ; 
How  there  is  something  relentless  in  their  fate,  all 

times  ; 
How  all  times  mischoose  the  objects  of  their  adulation 

and  reward, 
And  how  the  same  inexorable  price  must  still  be  paid 

for  the  same  great  purchase. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SONGS  OF  INSURRECTION. 


STILL  THOUGH  THE  ONE  I  SING. 

STILL,  though  the  one  I  sing, 

(One,  yet  of  contradictions  made,)  I  dedicate  to  Nation 
ality, 

I  leave  in  him  Kevolt,  (O  latent  right  of  insurrection !  O 
quenchless,  indispensable  fire!) 


TO  A  FOIL'D  EUROPEAN  REVOLUTIONAIRE. 

1 

1  COURAGE  yet !  my  brother  or  my  sister ! 

Keep  on !  Liberty  is  to  be  subserv'd,  whatever  occurs  ; 

That  is  nothing,  that  is  quell'd  by  one  or  two  failures, 

or  any  number  of  failures, 
Or  by  the  indifference  or  ingratitude  of  the  people,  or 

by  any  unfaithfulness, 
Or  the  show  of  the  tushes  of  power,  soldiers,  cannon, 

penal  statutes. 


364  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

2  Revolt !  and  still  revolt !  revolt ! 

What  we  believe  in  waits  latent  forever  through  all 
the  continents,  and  all  the  islands  and  archi 
pelagos  of  the  sea  ; 

What  we  believe  in  invites  no  one,  promises  nothing, 
sits  in  calmness  and  light,  is  positive  and  com 
posed,  knows  no  discouragement, 

Waiting  patiently,  waiting  its  time. 

3  (Not  songs  of  loyalty  alone  are  these, 
But  songs  of  insurrection  also  ; 

For  I  am  the  sworn  poet  of  every  dauntless  rebel,  the 

world  over, 
And  he  going  with  me  leaves  peace  and  routine  behind 

him, 
And  stakes  his  life,  to  be  lost  at  any  moment.) 


4  Revolt !  and  the  downfall  of  tyrants  ! 

The  battle  rages  with  many  a  loud  alarm,  and  frequent 
advance  and  retreat, 

The  infidel  triumphs — or  supposes  he  triumphs, 

Then  the  prison,  scaffold,  garrote,  hand-cuffs,  iron  neck 
lace  and  anklet,  lead-balls,  do  their  work, 

The  named  and  unnamed  heroes  pass  to  other  spheres, 

The  great  speakers  and  writers  are  exiled — they  lie  sick 
in  distant  lands, 

The  cause  is  asleep— the  strongest  throats  are  still, 
choked  with  their  own  blood, 

The  young  men  droop  their  eyelashes  toward  the  ground 
when  they  meet ; 

— But  for  all  this,  liberty  has  not  gone  out  of  the  place, 
nor  the  infidel  enter'd  into  full  possession. 

6  When  liberty  goes  out  of  a  place,  it  is  not  the  first  to 

go,  nor  the  second  or  third  to  go, 
It  waits  for  all  the  rest  to  go — it  is  the  last. 

6  When  there  are  no  more  memories  of  heroes  and 
martyrs, 


SONGS  OF  INSURRECTION.  365 

And  when  all  life,  and  all  the  souls  of  men  and  women 
are  discharged  from  any  part  of  the  earth, 

Then  only  shall  liberty,  or  the  idea  of  liberty,  be  dis 
charged  from  that  part  of  the  earth, 

And  the  infidel  come  into  full  possession. 

3 

7  Then  courage  !  European  revolter  !  revoltress ! 
For,  till  all  ceases,  neither  must  you  cease. 

8  I  do  not  know  what  you  are  for,  (I  do  not  know  what 

I  am  for  myself,  nor  what  anything  is  for,) 
But  I  will  search  carefully  for  it  even  in  being  foil'd, 
In  defeat,  poverty,  misconception,  imprisonment— for 

they  too  are  great. 

9  Eevolt !  and  the  bullet  for  tyrants ! 
Did  we  think  victory  great  ? 

So  it  is — But  now  it  seems  to  me,  when  it  cannot  be 

help'd,  that  defeat  is  great, 
And  that  death  and  dismay  are  great. 


FRANCE, 

The  i8th  Year  of  These  States. 


1  A  GREAT  year  and  place  ; 

A  harsh,  discordant,  natal  scream  out-sounding,  to 
touch  the  mother's  heart  closer  than  any  yet. 

2  I  walk'd  the  shores  of  my  Eastern  Sea, 
Heard  over  the  waves  the  little  voice, 

Saw  the  divine  infant,  where  she  woke,  mournfully  wail 
ing,  amid  the  roar  of  cannon,  curses,  shouts, 
crash  of  falling  buildings  ; 


366  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

Was  not  so  sick  from  the  blood  in  the  gutters  running 
— nor  from  the  single  corpses,  nor  those  in  heaps, 
nor  those  borne  away  in  the  tumbrils  ; 

Was  not  so  desperate  at  the  battues  of  death — was  not 
so  shock'd  at  the  repeated  fusillades  of  'the  guns. 

2 

3  Pale,  silent,  stern,  what  could  I  say  to  that  long- 

accrued  retribution  ? 
Could  I  wish  humanity  different  ? 
Could  I  wish  the  people  made  of  wood  and  stone  ? 
Or  that  there  be  no  justice  in  destiny  or  time  ? 

3 

4  O  Liberty !  O  mate  for  me  ! 

Here  too  the  blaze,  the  grape-shot  and  the  axe,  in  re 
serve,  to  fetch  them  out  in  case  of  need  ; 
Here  too,  though  long  represt,  can  never  be  destroyed  ; 
Here  too  could  rise  at  last,  murdering  and  extatic  ; 
Here  too  demanding  full  arrears  of  vengeance. 


6  Hence  I  sign  this  salute  over  the  sea, 

And  I  do  not  deny  that  terrible  red  birth  and  baptism, 

But  remember  the  little  voice  that  I  heard  wailing — and 

9       wait  with  perfect  trust,  no  matter  how  long  ; 
And  from  to-day,  sad  and  cogent,  I  maintain  the  be- 

queath'd  cause,  as  for  all  lands. 
And  I  send  these  words  to  Paris  with  my  love, 
And  I  guess  some  chansonniers  there  will  understand 

them, 
For  I  guess  there  is  latent  music  yet  in  France — floods 

of  it; 
O  I  hear  already  the  bustle  of  instruments — they  will 

soon  be  drowning  all  that  would  interrupt  them  ; 

0  I  think  the  east  wind  brings  a  triumphal  and  free 

march, 
It  reaches  hither — it  swells  me  to  joyful  madness, 

1  will  run  transpose  it  in  words,  to  justify  it, 
I  will  yet  sing  a  song  for  you,  MA  FEMME. 


SONGS  OF  INSURRECTION.  367 

EUROPE, 

The  J2d  and  73d  Years  of  These  States. 


1  SUDDENLY,  out  of  its  stale  and  drowsy  lair,  the  lair  of 

slaves, 

Like  lightning  it  le'pt  forth,  half  startled  at  itself, 
Its  feet  upon  the  ashes  and  the  rags — its  hands  tight  to 

the  throats  of  kings. 

2  O  hope  and  faith  ! 

O  aching  close  of  exiled  patriots'  lives ! 

O  many  a  sicken'd  heart ! 

Turn  back  unto  this  day,  and  make  yourselves  afresh. 

3  And  you,  paid  to  defile  the  People  !  you  liars,  mark ! 
Not  for  numberless  agonies,  murders,  lusts, 

For  court  thieving  in  its  manifold  mean  forms,  worming 
from  his  simplicity  the  poor  man's  wages, 

For  many  a  promise  sworn  by  royal  lips,  and  broken, 
and  laugh'd  at  in  the  breaking, 

Then  in  their  power,  not  for  all  these,  did  the  blows 
strike  revenge,  or  the  heads  of  the  nobles  fall ; 

The  People  scorn'd  the  ferocity  of  kings. 


4  But  the  sweetness  of  mercy  brew'd  bitter  destruction, 
and  the  frighten'd  monarchs  come  back  ; 

Each  comes  in  state,  with  his  train — hangman,  priest, 
tax-gatherer, 

Soldier,  lawyer,  lord,  jailer,  and  sycophant. 

6  Yet  behind  all,  lowering,  stealing— lo,  a  Shape, 
Vague  as  the  night,  draped  interminably,  head,  front 

and  form,  in  scarlet  folds, 
Whose  face  and  eyes  none  may  see, 


368  LEAVES  OF  G-RASS. 

Out  of  its  robes  only  this — the  red  robes,  lifted  by  the 

arm, 
One  finger,  crook'd,  pointed  high  over  the  top,  like  the 

head  of  a  snake  appears. 


6  Meanwhile,  corpses  lie  in  new-made  graves — bloody 

corpses  of  young  men  ; 
The  rope  of  the  gibbet  hangs  heavily,  the  bullets  of 

princes  are  flying,  the  creatures  of  power  laugh 

aloud, 
And  all  these  things  bear  fruits — and  they  are  good. 

7  Those  corpses  of  young  men, 

Those  martyrs  that  hang  from  the  gibbets — those  hearts 

pierc'd  by  the  gray  lead, 
Cold  and  motionless  as  they  seem,  live  elsewhere  with 

unslaughter'd  vitality. 

8  They  live  in  other  young  men,  O  kings ! 
They  live  in  brothers,  again  ready  to  defy  you ! 

They  were  purified  by  death — they  were  taught  and 
exalted. 

9  Not  a  grave  of  the  murder'd  for  freedom,  but  grows 

seed  for  freedom,  in  its  turn  to  bear  seed, 
Which  the  winds  carry  afar  and  re-sow,  and  the  rains 
and  the  snows  nourish. 

10  Not  a  disembodied  spirit  can  the  weapons  of  tyrants 

let  loose, 

But  it  stalks  invisibly  over  the  earth,  whispering,  coun 
seling,  cautioning. 


11  Liberty  !  let  others  despair  of  you !  I  never  despair 

of  you. 

12  Is  the  house  shut  ?    Is  the  roaster  away  ? 
Nevertheless,  be  ready — be  not  weary  of  watching  ; 
He  will  soon  return — his  messengers  come  anon. 


SONGS  OF  INSURRECTION.  369 


Walt  Whitman's  Caution. 

To  The  States,  or  any  one  of  them,  or  any  city  of  The 

States,  Resist  much,  obey  little  ; 

Once  unquestioning  obedience,  onc*e  fully  enslaved  ; 
Once  fully  enslaved,  no  nation,  state,  city,  of  this  earth, 

ever  afterward  resumes  its  liberty. 


To  a  Certain  Cantatrice. 

HERE,  take  this  gift ! 

I  was  reserving  it  for  some  hero,  speaker,  or  General, 

One   who  should  serve  the  good  old  cause,  the  great 

Idea,  the  progress  and  freedom  of  the  race  ; 
Some  brave  confronter  of  despots — some  daring  rebel ; 
— But  I  see  that  what  I  was  reserving,  belongs  to  you 

just  as  much  as  to  any. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


To  You. 

1  WHOEVER  you  are,  I  fear  you  are  walking  the  walks  of 
dreams, 

1  fear  these  supposed  realities  are  to  melt  from  under 

your  feet  and  hands  ; 

Even  now,  your  features,  joys,  speech,  house,  trade, 
manners,  troubles,  follies,  costume,  crimes,  dissi 
pate  away  from  you, 

Your  true  Soul  and  Body  appear  before  me, 
They  stand  forth  out  of  affairs — out  of  commerce,  shops, 
law,    science,  work,   farms,    clothes,  the  house, 
medicine,  print,  buying,  selling,  eating,  drinking, 
suffering,  dying. 

2  Whoever  you  are,  now  I  place  my  hand  upon  you, 

that  you  be  my  poem  ; 
I  whisper  with  my  lips  close  to  your  ear, 
I  have  loved  many  women  and  men,  but  I  love  none 

better  than  you. 

3  O  I  have  been  dilatory  and  dumb  ; 

I  should  have  made  my  way  straight  to  you  long  ago  ; 
I  should  have  blabb'd  nothing  but  you,  I  should  have 
chanted  nothing  but  you. 

4  I  will  leave  all,  and  come  and  make  the  hymns  of  you; 
None  have  understood  you,  but  I  understand  you  ; 
None  have  done  justice  to  you — you  have  not  done 

justice  to  yourself ; 

None  but  have  found  you  imperfect — I  only  find  no 
imperfection  in  you ; 


LEAVES  OF  Git  ASS.  C71 

None  but  would  subordinate  you — I  only  am  be  who 
will  never  consent  to  subordinate  you  ; 

I  only  am  he  who  places  over  you  no  master,  owner, 
better,  God,  beyond  what  waits  intrinsically  in 
yourself. 

5  Painters  have  painted  their  swarming  groups,  and  the 

centre  figure  of  all ; 

From  the  head  of  the  centre  figure  spreading  a  nimbus 
of  gold-color'd  light ; 

But  I  paint  myriads  of  heads,  but  paint  no  head  with 
out  its  nimbus  of  gold-color'd  light ; 

From  my  hand,  from  the  brain  of  every  man  and  woman 
it  streams,  effulgently  flowing  forever. 

6  O  I  could  sing  such  grandeurs  and  glories  about  you ! 
You  have  not  known  what  you  are — you  have  slumber'd 

upon  yourself  all  your  life  ; 
Your  eye-lids  have  been  the  same  as  closed  most  of  the 

time  ; 

"What  you  have  done  returns  already  in  mockeries  ; 
(Your  thrift,  knowledge,  prayers,  if  they  do  not  return 

in  mockeries,  what  is  their  return  ?) 

7  The  mockeries  are  not  you  ; 

Underneath  them,  and  within  them,  I  see  you  lurk  ; 

I  pursue  you  where  none  else  has  pursued  you  ; 

Silence,  the  desk,  the  flippant  expression,  the  night,  the 
accustom'd  routine,  if  these  conceal  you  from 
others,  or  from  yourself,  they  do  not  conceal  you 
from  me  ; 

The  shaved  face,  the  unsteady  eye,  the  impure  com 
plexion,  if  these  balk  others,  they  do  not  balk 
me, 

The  pert  apparel,  the  deform'd  attitude,  drunkenness, 
greed,  premature  death,  all  these  I  part  aside. 

8  There  is  no  endowment  in  man  or  woman  that  is  not 

tallied  in  you  ; 

There  is  no  virtue,  no  beauty,  in  man  or  woman,  but  as 
good  is  in  you  ; 


372  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

No  pluck,  no  endurance  in  others,  but  as  good  is  in 

you; 
No  pleasure  waiting  for  others,  but  an  equal  pleasure 

waits  for  you. 

9  As  for  me,  I  give  nothing  to  any  one,  except  I  give 

the  like  carefully  to  you ; 

I  sing  the  songs  of  the  glory  of  none,  not  God,  sooner 
than  I  sing  the  songs  of  the  glory  of  you. 

10  Whoever  you  are  !  claim  your  own  at  any  hazard  ! 
These  shows  of  the  east  and  west  are  tame,  compared 

to  you ; 

These  immense  meadows — these  interminable  rivers — 
you  are  immense  and  interminable  as  they  ; 

These  furies,  elements,  storms,  motions  of  Nature, 
throes  of  apparent  dissolution — you  are  he  or 
she  who  is  master  or  mistress  over  them, 

Master  or  mistress  in  your  own  right  over  Nature,  ele 
ments,  pain,  passion,  dissolution. 

11  The  hopples  fall  from  your  ankles — you  find  an  un 

failing  sufficiency ; 

Old  or  young,  male  or  female,  rude,  low,  rejected  by 
the  rest,  whatever  you  are  promulges  itself  ; 

Through  birth,  life,  death,  burial,  the  means  are  pro 
vided,  nothing  is  scanted  ; 

Through  angers,  losses,  ambition,  ignorance,  ennui, 
what  you  are  picks  its  way. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SONGS  OF  PARTING. 


AS  THE  TIME  DRAWS  NIGH. 


1  As  the  time  draws  nigh,  glooming,  a  cloud, 

A  dread  beyond,  of  I  know  not  what,  darkens  me. 

2  I  shall  go  forth, 

I  shall  traverse  The  States  awhile — but  I  cannot  tell 

whither  or  how  long  ; 
Perhaps  soon,  some  day  or  night  while  I  am  singing, 

my  voice  will  suddenly  cease. 


3  O  book,  O  chants  !  must  all  then  amount  to  but  this  ? 
Must  we  barely  arrive  at  this  beginning  of  us  ?   .   .   . 

And  yet  it  is  enough,  O  soul ! 
O  soul !  we  have  positively  appear'd — that  is  enough. 


YEARS  OF  THE  MODERN. 

YEABS  of  the  modern  !  years  of  the  unperform'd ! 
Your  horizon  rises — I  see  it  parting  away  for  more 

august  dramas ; 
I  see  not  America  only — I  see  not  only  Liberty's  nation, 

but  other  nations  preparing  ; 


374  LEAVES  or  GTHASS. 

I  see  tremendous  entrances  and  exits — I  see  new  com 
binations — I  see  the  solidarity  of  races  ; 

I  see  that  force  advancing  with  irresistible  power  on  the 
world's  stage  ; 

(Have  the  old  forces,  the  old  wars,  played  their  parts  ? 
are  the  acts  suitable  to  them  closed  ?) 

I  see  Freedom,  completely  arm'd,  and  victorious,  and 
very  haughty,  with  Law  on  one  side,  and  Peace 
on  the  other, 

A  stupendous  Trio,  all  issuing  forth  against  the  idea  of 
caste  ; 

— What  historic  denouements  are  these  we  so  rapidly 
approach  ? 

I  see  men  marching  and  countermarching  by  swift  mil 
lions  ; 

I  see  the  frontiers  and  boundaries  of  the  old  aristocra 
cies  broken  ; 

I  see  the  landmarks  of  European  kings  removed  ; 

I  see  this  day  the  People  beginning  their  landmarks, 
(all  others  give  way  ;) 

— Never  were  such  sharp  questions  ask'd  as  this  day  ; 

Never  was  average  man,  his  soul,  more  energetic,  more 
like  a  God ; 

Lo !  how  he  urges  and  urges,  leaving  the  masses  no 
rest ; 

His  daring  foot  is  on  land  and  sea  everywhere — he  col 
onizes  the  Pacific,  the  archipelagoes  ; 

With  the  steam-ship,  the  electric  telegraph,  the  news 
paper,  the  wholesale  engines  of  war, 

With  these,  and  the  world-spreading  factories,  he  inter 
links  all  geography,  all  lands  ; 

— What  whispers  are  these,  O  lands,  running  ahead  of 
you,  passing  under  the  seas  ? 

Are  all  nations  communing  ?  is  there  going  to  be  but 
one  heart  to  the  globe  ? 

Is  humanity  forming,  en-masse  ? — for  lo  !  tyrants  trem 
ble,  crowns  grow  dim  ; 

The  earth,  restive,  confronts  a  new  era,  perhaps  a  gen 
eral  divine  war  ; 

No  one  knows  what  will  happen  next — such  portents 
fill  the  days  and  nights  ; 


SONGS  OF  PARTING.  375 

Years  prophetical !  the  space  ahead  as  I  walk,  as  I  vain 
ly  try  to  pierce  it,  is  full  of  phantoms  ; 

Unborn  deeds,  things  soon  to  be,  project  their  shapes 
around  me  ; 

This  incredible  rush  and  heat — this  strange  extatic 
fever  of  dreams,  O  years  ! 

Your  dreams,  O  years,  how  they  penetrate  through  me ! 
(I  know  not  whether  I  sleep  or  wake  !) 

The  performed  America  and  Europe  grow  dim,  retiring 
in  shadow  behind  me, 

The  unperform'd,  more  gigantic  than  ever,  advance,  ad 
vance  upon  me. 


THOUGHTS. 


OF  these  years  I  sing, 

How  they  pass  and  have  pass'd,  through  convuls'd 
pains,  as  through  parturitions  ; 

How  America  illustrates  birth,  muscular  youth,  the 
promise,  the  sure  fulfillment,  the  Absolute  Suc 
cess,  despite  of  people — Illustrates  evil  as  wteil  as 
good; 

How  many  hold  despairingly  yet  to  the  models  de 
parted,  caste,  myths,  obedience,  compulsion,  and 
to  infidelity  ; 

How  few  see  the  arrived  models,  the  Athletes,  the 
Western  States — or  see  freedom  or  spirituality — 
or  hold  any  faith  in  results, 

(But  I  see  the  Athletes — and  I  see  the  results  of  the  war 
glorious  and  inevitable — and  they  again  leading 
to  other  results ;) 

How  the  great  cities  appear — How  the  Democratic 
masses,  turbulent,  wilful,  as  I  love  them  ; 

How  the  whirl,  the  contest,  the  wrestle  of  evil  with 
good,  the  sounding  and  resounding,  keep  on 
and  on ; 


376  LEAVES  OF  GTBASS. 

How  society  waits  unform'd,  and  is  for  a  while  between 
things  ended  and  things  begun  ; 

How  America  is  the  continent  of  glories,  and  of  the 
triumph  of  freedom,  and  of  the  Democracies, 
and  of  the  fruits  of  society,  and  of  all  that  is 
begun ; 

And  how  The  States  are  complete  in  themselves — And 
how  all  triumphs  and  glories  are  complete  in 
themselves,  to  lead  onward, 

And  how  these  of  mine,  and  of  The  States,  will  in  their 
turn  be  convuls'd,  and  serve  other  parturitions 
and  transitions, 

And  how  all  people,  sights,  combinations,  the  Demo 
cratic  masses,  too,  serve — and  how  every  fact, 
and  war  itself,  with  all  its  horrors,  serves, 

And  how  now,  or  at  any  time,  each  serves  the  exquisite 
transition  of  death. 


OF  seeds  dropping  into  the  ground — of  birth, 

Of  the  steady  concentration  of  America,  inland,  upward, 

to  impregnable  and  swarming  places, 
Of  what  Indiana,  Kentucky,  Ohio  and  the  rest,  are  to  be, 
Of  what  a  few  years  will  show  there  in  Nebraska,  Col- 

|  orado,  Nevada,  and  the  rest  ; 
(Or  afar,  mounting  the  Northern  Pacific  to  Sitka  or 

Aliaska  ;) 
Of  what  the  feuillage  of  America  is  the  preparation  for 

— and  of  what  all  sights,  North,  South,  East  and 

West,  are ; 
Of  This  Union,  soak'd,  welded  in  blood — of  the  solemn 

price  paid — of  the  unnamed  lost,  ever  present  in 

my  mind ; 

— Of  the  temporary  use  of  materials,  for  identity's  sake, 
Of  the  present,  passing,  departing — of  the  growth  of 

completer  men  than  any  yet, 
Of  myself,  soon,  perhaps,  closing  up  my  songs  by  these 

shores, 
Of  California,  of  Oregon — and  of  me  journeying  to  live 

and  sing  there  ; 


SONGS  OF  PARTING.  377 

Of  the  Western  Sea — of  the  spread  inland  between  it 
and  the  spinal  river, 

Of  the  great  pastoral  area,  athletic  and  feminine, 

Of  all  sloping  down  there  where  the  fresh  free  giver, 
the  mother,  the  Mississippi  flows, 

Of  future  women  there — of  happiness  in  those  high 
plateaus,  ranging  three  thousand  miles,  warm 
and  cold  ; 

Of  mighty  inland  cities  yet  unsurvey'd  and  unsus 
pected,  (as  I  am  also,  and  as  it  must  be  ;) 

Of  the  new  and  good  names — of  the  modern  develop 
ments — of  inalienable  homesteads  ; 

Of  a  free  and  original  life  there — of  simple  diet  and 
clean  and  sweet  blood  ; 

Of  litheness,  majestic  faces,  clear  eyes,  and  perfect 
physique  there  ; 

Of  immense  spiritual  results,  future  years,  far  west, 
each  side  of  the  Anahuacs  ; 

Of  these  leaves,  well  understood  there,  (being  made  for 
that  area ;) 

Of  the  native  scorn  of  grossness  and  gain  there  ; 

(O  it  lurks  in  me  night  and  day — What  is  gain,  after 
all,  to  savageness  and  freedom  ?) 


Song  at  Sunset. 


1  SPLENDOR  of  ended  day,  floating  and  filling  me ! 
Hour  prophetic — hour  resuming  the  past ! 
Inflating  my  throat — you,  divine  average ! 

You,  Earth  and  Life,  till  the  last  ray  gleams,  I  sing. 

2  Open  mouth  of  my  Soul,  uttering  gladness, 
Eyes  of  my  Soul,  seeing  perfection, 
Natural  life  of  me,  faithfully  praising  things  ; 
Corroborating  forever  the  triumph  of  things. 


378  LEAVES  OF  GTRASS. 

3  Illustrious  every  one ! 

Illustrious  what  we  name   space — sphere   of  unnum- 

ber'd  spirits  ; 
Illustrious  the  mystery  of  motion,  in  all  beings,  even 

the  tiniest  insect ; 
Illustrious   the   attribute   of  speech — the   senses — the 

body  ; 
Illustrious   the   passing  light!      Illustrious    the    pale 

reflection  on  the  new  moon  in  the  western  sky  ! 
Illustrious  whatever  I  see,  or  hear,  or  touch,  to  the  last. 

4  Good  in  all, 

In  the  satisfaction  and  aplomb  of  animals, 

In  the  annual  return  of  the  seasons, 

In  the  hilarity  of  youth, 

In  the  strength  and  flush  of  manhood, 

In  the  grandeur  and  exquisiteness  of  old  age, 

In  the  superb  vistas  of  Death. 

6  Wonderful  to  depart  ; 

Wonderful  to  be  here ! 

The  heart,  to  jet  the  all-alike  and  innocent  blood ! 

To  breathe  the  air,  how  delicious  ! 

To  speak  !  to  walk  !  to  seize  something  by  the  hand ! 

To  prepare  for  sleep,  for  bed — to  look  on  my  rose- 

color'd  flesh  ; 

To  be  conscious  of  my  body,  so  satisfied,  so  large  ; 
To  be  this  incredible  God  I  am  ; 
To  have  gone  forth  among  other  Gods — these  men  and 

women  I  love. 

6  Wonderful  how  I  celebrate  you  and  myself ! 

How  my  thoughts  play  subtly  at  the  spectacles  around ! 

How  the  clouds  pass  silently  overhead ! 

How  the  earth  darts  on  and  on !    and  how  the  sun, 

moon,  stars,  dart  on  and  on ! 

How  the  water  sports  and  sings  !   (Surely  it  is  alive  !) 
How  the  trees  rise  and  stand  up — with  strong  trunks — 

with  branches  and  leaves  ! 
(Surely  there  is  something  more  in  each  of  the  trees — 

some  living  Soul.) 


SONGS  OF  PARTING.  379 

7  O  amazement  of  things  !  even  the  least  particle  ! 
O  spirituality  of  things  ! 

0  strain  musical,  flowing  through  ages  and  continents 

— now  reaching  me  and  America  ! 

1  take  your  strong  chords— I  intersperse  them,  and 

cheerfully  pass  them  forward. 

8  I  too  carol  the  sun,  usher'd,  or  at  noon,  or,  as  now, 

setting, 
I  too  throb  to  the  brain  and  beauty  of  the  earth,  and 

of  all  the  growths  of  the  earth, 
I  too  have  felt  the  resistless  cah1  of  myself. 

9  As  I  sail'd  down  the  Mississippi, 
As  I  wander'd  over  the  prairies, 

As  I  have  lived — As  I  have  look'd  through  my  windows, 
my  eyes, 

As  I  went  forth  in  the  morning — As  I  beheld  the  light 
breaking  in  the  east ; 

As  I  bathed  on  the  beach  of  the  Eastern  Sea,  and  again 
on  the  beach  of  the  Western  Sea  ; 

As  I  roam'd  the  streets  of  inland  Chicago — whatever 
streets  I  have  roam'd  ; 

Or  cities,  or  silent  woods,  or  peace,  or  even  amid  the 
sights  of  war  ; 

Wherever  I  have  been,  I  have  charged  myself  with  con 
tentment  and  triumph. 

10  I  sing  the  Equalities,  modern  or  old, 
I  sing  the  endless  finales  of  things  ; 

I  say  Nature  continues — Glory  continues  ; 
I  praise  with  electric  voice  ; 

For  I  do  not  see  one  imperfection  in  the  universe  ; 
And  I  do  not  see  one  cause  or  result  lamentable  at  last 
in  the  universe. 

11  O  setting  sun  !  though  the  time  has  come, 

I  still  warble  under  you,  if  none  else  does,  unmitigated 
adoration. 


380  LEAVES  OF  G-KASS. 

WHEN  I  HEARD  THE  LEARN'D  ASTRONOMER. 

WHEN  I  heard  the  learn'd  astronomer  ; 

When  the  proofs,  the  figures,  were  ranged  in  columns 
before  me ; 

When  I  was  shown  the  charts  and  the  diagrams,  to  add, 
divide,  and  measure  them  ; 

When  I,  sitting,  heard  the  astronomer,  where  he  lec 
tured  with  much  applause  in  the  lecture-room, 

How  soon,  unaccountable,  I  became  tired  and  sick  ; 

Till  rising  and  gliding  out,  I  wander'd  off  by  myself,  « 

In  the  mystical  moist  night-air,  and  from  time  to  time, 

Look'd  up  in  perfect  silence  at  the  stars. 


To  RICH  GIVERS. 

WHAT  you  give  me,  I  cheerfully  accept, 

A  little  sustenance,  a  hut  and  garden,  a  little  money — 

these,  as  I  rendezvous  with  my  poems  ; 
A  traveler's  lodging  and  breakfast  as  I  journey  through 

The  States — Why  should  I  be  ashamed  to  own 

such  gifts  ?  Why  to  advertise  for  them  ? 
For  I  myself  am  not  one  who  bestows  nothing  upon 

man  and  woman  ; 
For  I  bestow  upon  any  man  or  woman  the  entrance  to 

all  the  gifts  of  the  universe. 


THOUGHT. 

OF  what  I  write  from  myself — As  if  that  were  not  the 

resume  ; 
Of  Histories — As  if  such,  however  complete,  were  not 

less  complete  than  the  preceding  poems  ; 
As  if  those  shreds,  the  records  of  nations,  could  possibly 

be  as  lasting  as  the  preceding  poems  ; 
As  if  here  were  not  the  amount  of  all  nations,  and  of  all 

the  lives  of  heroes. 


SONGS  OF  PARTING.  381 

SO  LONG! 


1  To  conclude — I  announce  what  comes  after  me  ; 

1  announce  mightier  offspring,  orators,  days,  and  then, 

for  the  present,  depart. 

2  I  remember  I  said,  before  my  leaves  sprang  at  all, 

I  would  raise  my  voice  jocund  and  strong,  with  reference 
to  consummations. 

3  When  America  does  what  was  promised, 

When  there  are  plentiful  athletic  bards,  inland  and 
seaboard, 

When  through  These  States  walk  a  hundred  millions  of 
superb  persons, 

When  the  rest  part  away  for  superb  persons,  and  con 
tribute  to  them, 

When  breeds  of  the  most  perfect  mothers  denote 
America, 

Then  to  me  and  mine  our  due  fruition. 

4  I  have  press'd  through  in  my  own  right, 

I  have  sung  the  Body  and  the  Soul — War  and  Peace 

have  I  sung, 
And  the  songs  of  Life  and  of  Birth — and  shown  that 

there  are  many  births  : 
I  have  offer'd  my  style  to  every  one — I  have  journey'd 

with  confident  step  ; 

While  my  pleasure  is  yet  at  the  full,  I  whisper,  So  long  ! 
And  take  the  young  woman's  hand,  and  the  young 

man's  hand,  for  tke  last  time. 


6  I  announce  natural  persons  to  arise  ; 
I  announce  justice  triumphant ; 


382  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

I  announce  uncompromising  liberty  and  equality  ; 
I  announce  the  justification  of  candor,  and  the  justifica 
tion  of  pride. 

6  I  announce  that  the  identity  of  These  States  is  a 

single  identity  only ; 

I  announce  the  Union  more  and  more  compact,  indis 
soluble  ; 

I  announce  splendors  and  majesties  to  make  all  the 
previous  politics  of  the  earth  insignificant. 

7  I  announce  adhesiveness — I  say  it  shall  be  limitless, 

unloosen'd  ; 
I  say  you  shall  yet  find  the  friend  you  were  looking  for. 

8  I  announce  a  man  or  woman  coming — perhaps  you 

are  the  one,  (So  long  !) 

I  announce  the  great  individual,  fluid  as  Nature,  chaste, 
affectionate,  compassionate,  fully  armed. 

9  I  announce  a  life  that  shall  be  copious,  vehement, 

spiritual,  bold ; 

I  announce  an  end  that  shall  lightly  and  joyfully  meet 
its  translation ; 

I  announce  myriads  of  youths,  beautiful,  gigantic,  sweet- 
blooded  ; 

I  announce  a  race  of  splendid  and  savage  old  men. 

3 

10  O  thicker  and  faster  !  (So  long!) 

0  crowding  too  close  upon  me  ; 

1  foresee  too  much — it  means  more  than  I  thought ; 
It  appears  to  me  I  am  dying. 

11  Hasten  throat,  and  sound  yqur  last ! 

Salute  me— salute  the  days  once  more.  Peal  the  old 
cry  once  more. 

12  Screaming  electric,  the  atmosphere  using, 

At  random  glancing,  each  as  I  notice  absorbing, 


SONGS  OF  PARTING.  383 

Swiftly  on,  but  a  little  while  alighting, 

Curious  envelop'd  messages  delivering, 

Rparkles  hot,  seed  ethereal,  down  in  the  dirt  dropping, 

Myself  unknowing,  my  commission  obeying,  to  question 

it  never  daring, 

To  ages,  and  ages  yet,  the  growth  of  the  seed  leaving, 
To  troops  out  of  me,  out  of  the  army,  the  war  arising — 

they  the  tasks  I  have  set  promulging, 
To  women  certain  whispers  of  myself  bequeathing — 

their  affection  me  more  clearly  explaining, 
To  young  men  my  problems  offering — no  dallier  I — I 

the  muscle  of  their  brains  trying, 
So  I  pass — a  little  time  vocal,  visible,  contrary  ; 
Afterward,  a  melodious  echo,  passionately  bent  for — 

(death  making  me  really  undying  ;)  • 
The  best  of  me  then  when  no  longer  visible — for  toward 

that  I  have  been  incessantly  preparing. 

13  What  is  there  more,  that  I  lag  and  pause,  and  crouch 

extended  with  unshufc  mouth  ? 
Is  there  a  single  final  farewell  ? 


14  My  songs  cease — I  abandon  them  ; 

From  behind  the  screen  where  I  hid,  I  advance  person 
ally,  solely  to  you. 

15  Camerado  !  This  is  no  book  ; 
"Who  touches  this,  touches  a  man  ; 
(Is  it  night  ?  Are  we  here  alone  ?) 

It  is  I  you  hold,  and  who  holds  you  ; 
I  spring  from  the  pages  into  your  arms — decease  calls 
me  forth. 

16  O  how  your  fingers  drowse  me ! 

Your  breath  falls  around  me  like  dew — your  pulse  lulls 

the  tympans  of  my  ears  ; 
I  feel  immerged  from  head  to  foot ; 
Delicious — enough. 


384  LEAVES  OF  G-BASS. 

17  Enough,  O  deed  impromptu  and  secret ! 

Enough,  O  gliding  present!    Enough,  O  summ'd-up 
past! 

5 

18  Dear  friend,  whoever  you  are,  take  this  kiss, 
I  give  it  especially  to  you — Do  not  forget  me  ; 

I  feel  like  one  who  has  done  work  for  the  day,  to  retire 

awhile  ; 
I  receive  now  again  of  my  many  translations — from  my 

avataras  ascending — while  others  doubtless  await 

me  ; 
An  unknown  sphere,  more  real  than  I  dream'd,  more 

direc^,  darts  awakening  rays  about  me — So  long  1 
Kemember  my  words — I  may  again  return, 
I  love  you — I  depart  from  materials  ; 
I  am  as  one  disembodied,  triumphant,  dead. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


PASSAGE 

to 


INDIA. 


Gliding  o'er  all,  through  all, 
Through  Nature,  Time,  and  Space, 
As  a  Ship  on  the  waters  advancing, 
The  Voyage  of  the  Soul — not  Life  alone. 
Death — many  Deaths,  I  sing. 


Washington,  D.  C. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

WALT  WHITMAN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Electrotyped  by  SMITH  &  McDouGAL,  82  Beekman  Street,  New  York. 


COMTEMTS. 


PAGE 

Passage  to  India 5 

Thought.  16 

O  Living  Always— Always  Dying. 16 

Proud  Music  of  The  Storm 17 

ASHES  OF  SOLDIERS. 

Ashes  of  Soldiers 25 

In  Midnight  Sleep 27 

Camps  ot  Green 28 

To  a  Certain  Civilian 29 

Pensive  on  Her  Dead  Gazing,  I  Heard  the  Mother  of  All 29 

PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL  HYMN. 

When  Lilacs  Last  in  the  Door-yard  Bloom'd 31 

O  Captain  I  My  Captain ! 41 

Hush'd  be  the  Camps  To-day 42 

This  Dust  was  Once  the  Man 42 

Poem  of  Joys 43 

To  Think  of  Time 53 

Chanting  the  Square  Deific 60 

WHISPERS  OF  HEAVENLY  DEATH. 

Whispers  of  Heavenly  Death  63 

Darest  Thou  Now,  O  Soul 64 

Of  Him  I  Love  Day  and  Night 64 

Assurances 65 

Yet,  Yet,  Ye  Downcast  Hours 66 

Quicksand  Years 67 

That  Music  Always  Hound  Me 67 

As  if  a  Phantom  Caress'd  Me 68 

Here,  Sailor 68 

A  Noiseless  Patient  Spider 69 

The  Last  Invocation 69 

As  I  Watch'd  the  Ploughman  Ploughing 70 

Pensive  and  Faltering 70 

SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES. 

Out  of  the  Cradle  Endlessly  Eocking 71 

Elemental  Drifts 78 

Tears 82 

Aboard  at  a  Ship's  Helm 82 

On  the  Beach  at  Night 83 

The  World  Below  the  Brine 84 

On  the  Beach  at  Night,  Alone 85 


iv  CONTENTS. 

LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  PAGE 

A  Carol  of  Harvest  for  1867 87 

The  Singer  in  the  Prison 94 

Warble  for  Lilac-Time 96 

Who  Learns  My  Lesson  Complete  ? 98 

Thought 99 

Myseff  and  Mine 100 

To  Old  Age 101 

Miracles 102 

Sparkles  from  The  Wheel 103 

Excelsior 104 

Mediums 105 

Kosmos 106 

To  a  Pupil 106 

What  am  I,  After  All  ? 107 

Others  may  Praise  what  They  Like 107 

Brother  of  All,  with  Generous  Hand 108 

Night  on  The  Prairies f. Ill 

On  Journeys  Through  The  States 112 

Savantism 113 

Locations  and  Times 113 

Thought 113 

Offerings t 113 

Tests 114 

TheTorch 114 

Gods 115 

To  One  Shortly  to  Die 116 

"Now  FINALE  TO  THE  SHORE. 

Now  Finale  to  the  Shore 117 

Shut  Not  Your  Doors,  &c 117 

Thought 118 

The  Untold  Want 118 

Portals 11 9 

These  Carols 119 

This  Day,  O  Soul 119 

What  Place  is  Besieged  ? 119 

To  the  Reader,  at  Parting 120 

Joy,  Shipmate,  Joy  1 120 


LEAVES  OF 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


1  SINGING  my  days, 

Singing  the  great  achievements  of  the  present, 

Singing  the  strong,  light  works  of  engineers, 

Our  modern  wonders,  (the  antique  ponderous  Seven 

outvied,) 

In  the  Old  World,  the  east,  the  Suez  canal, 
The  New  by  its  mighty  railroad  spann'd, 
The  seas  inlaid  with  eloquent,  gentle  wires, 

1  sound,  to  commence,  the  cry,  with  thee,  O  soul, 
The  Past !  the  Past !  the  Past ! 

2  The  Past !  the  dark,  unfathom'd  retrospect ! 
The  teeming  gulf !  the  sleepers  and  the  shadows ! 
The  past !  the  infinite  greatness  of  the  past ! 

For  what  is  the  present,  after  all,  but  a  growth  out  of 

the  past  ? 
(As  a  projectile,  form'd,  impell'd,  passing  a  certain  line, 

still  keeps  on, 
So  the  present,  utterly  form'd,  impell'd  by  the  past.) 


3  Passage,  O  soul,  to  India !  - 

Eclaircise  the  myths  Asiatic — the  primitive  fables. 

4  Not  you  alone,  proud  truths  of  the  world ! 
Nor  you  alone,  ye  facts  of  modern  science ! 

But  myths  and  fables  of  eld — Asia's,  Africa's  fables ! 


6  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

The   far-darting   beams  of   the   spirit! — the  unloosed 

dreams ! 

The  deep  diving  bibles  and  legends  ; 
The  daring  plots  of  the  poets — the  elder  religions  ; 
— O  you  temples  fairer  than  lilies,  pour'd  over  by  the 

rising  sun ! 
O  you  fables,  spurning  the  known,  eluding  the  hold  of 

the  known,  mounting  to  heaven ! 
You  lofty  and  dazzling  towers,  pinnacled,  red  as  roses, 

burnish'd  with  gold ! 
Towers    of    fables    immortal,   fashion'd    from    mortal 

dreams ! 

You  too  I  welcome,  and  fully,  the  same  as  the  rest ; 
You  too  with  joy  I  sing. 


6  Passage  to  India ! 

Lo,  soul !  seest  thou  not  God's  purpose  from  the  first  ? 
The  earth  to  be  spann'd,  connected  by  net-work, 
The  people  to  become  brothers  and  sisters. 
The  races,  neighbors,  to  marry  and  be  given  in  mar 
riage, 

The  oceans  to  be  cross'd,  the  distant  brought  near, 
The  lands  to  be  welded  together. 

6  (A  worship  new,  I  sing  ; 

You  captains,  voyagers,  explorers,  yours ! 

You  engineers  !  you  architects,  machinists,  yours  ! 

You,  not  for  trade  or  transportation  only, 

But  in  God's  name,  and  for  thy  sake,  O  soul.) 


7  Passage  to  India ! 
Lo,  soul,  for  thee,  of  tableaus  twain, 
I  see,  in  one,  the  Suez  canal  initiated,  open'd, 
I  see  the  procession  of  steamships,  the  Empress  Euge 
nie's  leading  the  van  ; 

I  mark,  from  on  deck,  the  strange  landscape,  the  pure 
sky,  the  level  sand  in  the  distance  ; 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  7 

I  pass  swiftly  the  picturesque  groups,  the  workmen 

gather'd, 
The  gigantic  dredging  machines. 

8  In  one,  again,  different,  (yet  thine,  all  thine,  O  soul, 

the  same,) 

I  see  over  my  own  continent  the  Pacific  Kailroad,  sur 
mounting  every  barrier ; 

I  see  continual  trains  of  cars  winding  along  the  Platte, 
carrying  freight  and  passengers  ; 

I  hear  the  locomotives  rushing  and  roaring,  and  the 
shrill  steam-whistle, 

I  hear  the  echoes  reverberate  through  the  grandest 
scenery  in  the  world  ; 

I  cross  the  Laramie  plains — I  note  the  rocks  in  gro 
tesque  shapes — the  buttes  ; 

I  see  the  plentiful  larkspur  and  wild  onions — the  bar 
ren,  colorless,  sage-deserts  ; 

I  see  in  glimpses  afar,  or  towering  immediately  above 
me,  the  great  mountains — I  see  the  "Wind  River 
and  the  Wahsatch  mountains  ; 

I  see  the  Monument  mountain  and  the  Eagle's  Nest — 
I  pass  the  Promontory — I  ascend  the  Nevadas  ; 

I  scan  the  noble  Elk  mountain,  and  wind  around  its 
base  ; 

I  see  the  Humboldt  range — I  thread  the  valley  and 
cross  the  river, 

I  see  the  clear  waters  of  Lake  Tahoe — I  see  forests  of 
majestic  pines, 

Or,  crossing  the  great  desert,  the  alkaline  plains,  I  be 
hold  enchanting  mirages  of  waters  and  meadows  ; 

Marking  through  these,  and  after  all,  in  duplicate  slen 
der  lines, 

Bridging  the  three  or  four  thousand  miles  of  land 
travel, 

Tying  the  Eastern  to  the  Western  sea, 

The  road  between  Europe  and  Asia. 

9  (Ah  Genoese,  thy  dream  !  thy  dream  ! 
Centuries  after  thou  art  laid  in  thy  grave, 
The  shore  thou  foundest  verifies  thy  dream !) 


8  LEAVES  OF  GRASS 

5 

10  Passage  to  India ! 

Struggles  of  many  a  captain — tales  of  many  a  sailor 

dead! 

Over  my  mood,  stealing  and  spreading  they  come, 
Like  clouds  and  cloudlets  in  the  unreach'd  sky. 

11  Along  all  history,  down  the  slopes, 

As  a  rivulet  running,  sinking  now,  and  now  again  to 

the  surface  rising, 
A  ceaseless  thought,  a  varied  train — Lo,  soul !  to  thee, 

thy  sight,  they  rise, 

The  plans,  the  voyages  again,  the  expeditions  : 
Again  Vasco  de  Gama  sails  forth  ; 
Again  the  knowledge  gain'd,  the  mariner's  compass, 
Lands  found,  and  nations  born — thou  born,  America, 

(a  hemisphere  unborn,) 

For  purpose  vast,  man's  long  probation  fill'd, 
Thou,  rondure  of  the  world,  at  last  accomplish'd. 

6 

12  O,  vast  Eondure,  swimming  in  space  i 
Cover'd  all  over  with  visible  power  and  beauty  ! 
Alternate  light  and   day,   and  the   teeming,  spiritual 

darkness  ; 

Unspeakable,  high  processions  of  sun  and  moon,  and 
countless  stars,  above  ; 

Below,  the  manifold  grass  and  waters,  animals,  moun 
tains,  trees  ; 

With  inscrutable  purpose — some  hidden,  prophetic 
intention  ; 

Now,  first,  it  seems,  my  thought  begins  to  span  thee. 

13  Down  from  the  gardens  of  Asia,  descending,  radiat 

ing, 

Adam  and  Eve  appear,  then  their  myriad  progeny  after 
them, 

Wandering,  yearning,  curious — with  restless  explo 
rations, 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  9 

With   questionings,   baffled,    formless,    feverish — with 

never-happy  hearts, 
With  that  sad,  incessant  refrain,  Wherefore,    unsatisfied 

Soul?   and,  Whither,  0  mocking  Life  ? 

14  Ah,  who  shall  soothe  these  feverish  children  ? 
Who  justify  these  restless  explorations  ? 

Who  speak  the  secret  of  impassive  Earth  ? 

Who  bind  it  to  us  ?     What  is  this  separate  Nature,  so 

unnatural  ? 
What  is  this  Earth,  to  our  affections  ?  (unloving  earth, 

without  a  throb  to  answer  ours  ; 
Cold  earth,  the  place  of  graves.) 

15  Yet,  soul,  be  sure  the  first  intent  remains — and  shall 

be  carried  out ; 
(Perhaps  even  now  the  time  has  arrived.) 

16  After  the  seas  are  all  cross'd,  (as  they  seem  already 

cross'd, ) 
After  the  great  captains  and  engineers  have  accomplished 

their  work, 
After   the    noble  inventors — after  the    scientists,   the 

chemist,  the  geologist,  ethnologist, 
Finally  shall  come  the  Poet,  worthy  that  name  ; 
The  true  Son  of  God  shall  come,  singing  his  songs. 

17  Then,  not  your  deeds  only,  O  voyagers,  O  scientists 

and  inventors,  shall  be  justified, 

All  these  hearts,  as  of  fretted  children,  shall  be  sooth'd, 
All  affection  shall  be  fully  responded  to — the  secret 

shall  be  told  ; 
All  these  separations  and  gaps  shall  be  taken  up,  and 

hook'd  and  link'd  together  ; 
The  whole  Earth — this  cold,  impassive,  voiceless  Earth, 

shall  be  completely  justified  ; 
Trinitas  divine   shall  be  gloriously   accomplish'd  and 

compacted  by  the  true  Son  of  God,  the  poet, 
(He  shall  indeed  pass   the    straits  and  conquer  the 

mountains, 


10  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

He  shall  double  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  some  pur 
pose  ;) 

Nature  and  Man  shall  be  disjoin'd  and  diffused  no  more, 
The  true  Son  of  God  shall  absolutely  fuse  them. 


3  Year  at  whose  open'd,  wide-flung  door  I  sing ! 
Year  of  the  purpose  accomplish'd  ! 
Year    of    the   marriage   of    continents,    climates    and 

oceans ! 

(No  mere  Doge  of  Venice  now,  wedding  the  Adriatic  ;) 
I  see,  O  year,  in  you,  the  vast  terraqueous  globe,  given, 

and  giving  all, 
Europe  to  Asia,   Africa  ioin'd,   and  they  to  the  New 

World  ; 
The  lands,  geographies,  dancing  before  you,  holding  a 

festival  garland, 
As  brides  and  bridegrooms  hand  in  hand. 

8 

19  Passage  to  India ! 

Cooling  airs  from  Caucasus  far,  soothing  cradle  of  man, 
The  river  Euphrates  flowing,  the  past  Lit  up  again. 

20  Lo,  soul,  the  retrospect,  brought  forward  ; 

The  old,  most  populous,  wealthiest  of  Earth's  lands, 
The  streams  of  the  Indus  and  the  Ganges,  and  their 

many  affluents  ; 

(I,  my  shores  of  America  walking  to-day,  behold,  resum 
ing  all,) 
The  tale  of  Alexander,  on  his  warlike  marches,  suddenly 

dying, 
On  one  side  China,  and  on  the  other  side  Persia  and 

Arabia, 

To  the  south  the  great  seas,  and  the  Bay  of  Bengal ; 
The   flowing   literatures,   tremendous   epics,   religions, 

castes, 
Old  occult  Brahma,   interminably  far  back — the  tender 

and  junior  Buddha, 
Central  and  southern  empires,  and  all  their  belongings, 

possessors, 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  11 

The  wars  of  Tamerlane,  the  reign  of  Aurungzebe, 
The    traders,    rulers,    explorers,    Moslems,    Venetians, 

Byzantium,  the  Arabs,  Portuguese, 
The   first  travelers,   famous  yet,  Marco  Polo,  Batouta 

the  Moor, 
Doubts  to  be  solv'd,  the  map  incognita,  blanks  to  be 

fill'd, 

The  foot  of  man  unstay'd,  the  hands  never  at  rest, 
Thyself,  O  soul,  that  will  not  brook  a  challenge. 


11  The  medieval  navigators  rise  before  me, 

The  world  of  1492,  with  its  awaken'd  enterprise  ; 

Something   swelling  in  humanity  now  like  the  sap  of 

the  earth  in  spring, 
The  sunset  splendor  of  chivalry  declining. 

22  And  who  art  thou,  sad  shade  ? 
Gigantic,  visionary,  thyself  a  visionary, 
With  majestic  limbs,  and  pious,  beaming  eyes, 
Spreading  around,  with  every  look  of  thine,  a  golden 

world, 
Enhuing  it  with  gorgeous  hues. 

23  As  the  chief  histrion, 

Down  to  the  footlights  walks,  in  some  great  scena, 

Dominating  the  rest,  I  see  the  Admiral  himself, 

(History's  type  of  courage,  action,  faith  ;) 

Behold  him  sail  from  Palos,  leading  his  little  fleet ; 

fiis  voyage  behold — his  return — his  great  fame, 

His  misfortunes,  calumniators — behold  him  a  prisoner, 

chain'd, 
Behold  his  dejection,  poverty,  death. 

24  (Curious,   in   time,   I   stand,  noting   the    efforts   of 

heroes  ; 
Is  the  deferment  long?  bitter  the   slander,  poverty, 

death? 
Lies  the  seed  unreck'd  for  centuries  in  the  ground? 

Lo  !  to  God's  due  occasion, 


12  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

Uprising  in  the  night,  it  sprouts,  blooms, 
And  fills  the  earth  with  use  and  beauty.) 

10 

25  Passage  indeed,  O  soul,  to  primal  thought ! 

Not  lands  and  seas  alone — thy  own  clear  freshness, 
The  young  maturity  of  brood  and  bloom  ; 
To  realms  of  budding  bibles. 

26  O  soul,  repressless,  I  with  thee,  and  thou  with  me, 
Thy  circumnavigation  of  the  world  begin  ; 

Of  man,  the  voyage  of  his  mind's  return, 

To  reason's  early  paradise, 

Back,  back  to  wisdom's  birth,  to  innocent  intuitions, 

Again  with  fair  Creation. 

11 

27  O  we  can  wait  no  longer ! 
We  too  take  ship,  O  soul ! 

Joyous,  we  too  launch  out  on  trackless  seas  ! 
Fearless,  for  unknown  shores,  on  waves  of  extasy  to 

sail, 
Amid  the  wafting  winds,  (thou  pressing  me  to  thee,  I 

thee  to  me,  O  soul,) 

Caroling  free — singing  our  song  of  God, 
Chanting  our  chant  of  pleasant  exploration. 

28  With  laugh,  and  many  a  kiss, 

(Let  others  deprecate — let  others  weep  for  sin,  remorse, 

humiliation  ;) 
O  soul,  thou  pleasest  me — I  thee. 

29  Ah,  more  than  any  priest,  O  soul,  we  too  believe  in 

God; 
But  with  the  mystery  of  God  we  dare  not  dally. 

30  O  soul,  thou  pleasest  me — I  thee  ; 

Sailing  these  seas,  or  on  the  hills,  or  waking  in  the 
night, 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  13 

Thoughts,  silent  thoughts,   of  Time,   and  Space,  and 

Death,  like  waters  flowing, 

Bear  me,  indeed,  as  through  the  regions  infinite, 
Whose  air  I  breathe,  whose  ripples  hear — lave  me  all 

over  ; 

Bathe  me,  O  God,  in  thee— mounting  to  thee, 
I  and  my  soul  to  range  in  range  of  thee. 

31  O  Thou  transcendant ! 
Nameless — the  fibre  and  the  breath ! 

Light  of  the  light — shedding  forth  universes — thou 
centre  of  them ! 

Thou  mightier  centre  of  the  true,  the  good,  the  loving ! 

Thou  moral,  spiritual  fountain !  affection's  source !  thou 
reservoir ! 

(0  pensive  soul  of  me !  O  thirst  unsatisfied !  waitest  not 
there  ? 

"Waitest  not  haply  for  us,  somewhere  there,  the  Com 
rade  perfect  ?) 

Thou  pulse  !  thou  motive  of  the  stars,  suns,  systems, 

That,  circling,  move  in  order,  safe,  harmonious, 

Athwart  the  shapeless  vastnesses  of  space ! 

How  should  I  think — how  breathe  a  single  breath — 
how  speak — if,  out  of  myself, 

I  could  not  launch,  to  those,  superior  universes  ? 

32  Swiftly  I  shrivel  at  the  thought  of  God, 

At  Nature  and  its  wonders,  Time  and  Space  and  Death, 
But  that  I,  turning,  call  to  thee,  O  soul,  thou  actual  Me, 
And  lo  !  thou  gently  masterest  the  orbs, 
Thou  matest  Time,  smilest  content  at  Death, 
And  fillest,  swellest  full,  the  vastnesses  of  Space. 

33  Greater  than  stars  or  suns, 
Bounding,  O  soul,  thou  journeyest  forth  ; 

—What  love,  than  thine  and  ours  could  wider  amplify? 
What  aspirations,  wishes,  outvie  thine  and  ours,  O  soul  ? 
What  dreams  of  the  ideal  ?  what  plans  of  purity,  per 
fection,  strength? 


14  LEAVES  OF  GKASS. 

What  cheerful  willingness,  for  others'  sake,  to  give  up 

all? 
For  others'  sake  to  suffer  all  ? 

34  Reckoning    ahead,   O    soul,   when    thou,   the    time 

achieved, 
(The  seas  all  cross'd,  weather'd  the  capes,  the  voyage 

done,) 
Surrounded,  copest,  frontest   God,    yieldest,  the   aim 

attain'd, 
As,  fill'd    with   friendship,   love   complete,  the  Elder 

Brother  found, 
The  Younger  melts  in  fondness  in  his  arms. 


12 

35  Passage  to  more  than  India ! 

Are  thy  wings  plumed  indeed  for  such  far  nights  ? 
O  Soul,  voyagest  thou  indeed  on  voyages  like  these  ? 
Disportest  thou  on  waters  such  as  these  ? 
Soundest  below  the  Sanscrit  and  the  Yedas  ? 
Then  have  thy  bent  unleashed. 

36  Passage  to  you,  your  shores,  ye  aged  fierce  enigmas  ! 
Passage  to  you,  to  mastership  of  you,  ye  strangling 

problems ! 

You,  strew'd  with  the  wrecks  of  skeletons,  that,  living, 
never  reach'd  you. 

13 

37  Passage  to  more  than  India  I 
O  secret  of  the  earth  and  sky  ! 

Of  you,  O  waters  of  the  sea!  O  winding  creeks  and 

rivers ! 
Of  you,  O  woods  and  fields  !  Of  you,  strong  mountains 

of  my  land ! 

Of  you,  O  prairies  !  Of  you,  gray  rocks  ! 
O  morning  red  !  O  clouds  !  O  rain  and  snows ! 
O  day  and  night,  passage  to  you  ! 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  15 

38  O  sun  and  moon,  and  all  you  stars!     Sirius  and 

Jupiter ! 
Passage  to  you ! 

39  Passage — immediate  passage  !  the  blood  burns  in  my 

veins ! 

Away,  O  soul !  hoist  instantly  the  anchor  ! 
Cut  the  hawsers — haul  out — shake  out  every  sail ! 
Have  we  not  stood  here  like  trees  in  the  ground  long 

enough  ? 
Have  we  not  grovell'd  here  long  enough,  eating  and 

drinking  like  mere  brutes  ? 
Have  we  not  darken'd  and  dazed  ourselves  with  books 

long  enough  ? 

10  Sail  forth  !  steer  for  the  deep  waters  only ! 
Eeckless,  O  soul,  exploring,  I  with  thee,  and  thou  with 

me  ; 
For  we  are  bound  where  mariner  has  not  yet  dared  to 

go, 
And  we  will  risk  the  ship,  ourselves  and  all. 

41  O  my  brave  soul ! 

O  farther,  farther  sail ! 

O  daring  joy,  but  safe !     Are  they  not  all  the  seas  of 

God? 
0  farther,  farther,  farther  sail ! 


16  LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


THOUGHT. 

As  I  sit  with  others,  at  a  great  feast,  suddenly,  while 

the  music  is  playing, 
To  my  mind,  (whence  it  comes  I  know  not,)  spectral,  in 

mist,  of  a  wreck  at  sea  ; 
Of  certain  ships — how  they  sail  from  port  with  flying 

streamers,  and  wafted  kisses — and  that  is  the 

last  of  them ! 
Of  the  solemn  and  murky  mystery  about  the  fate  of  the 

President ; 
Of  the  flower  of  the  marine  science  of  fifty  generations, 

founder'd  off  the   Northeast  coast,   and   going- 
down — Of  the  steamship  Arctic  going  down, 
Of  the  veil'd  tableau — "Women  gathered  together  on 

deck,   pale,   heroic,   waiting    the  moment    that 

draws  so  close — O  the  moment ! 
A  huge  sob — A  few  bubbles — the  white  foam  spirting 

up — And  then  the  women  gone, 
Sinking  there,  while  the  passionless  wet  flows  on — And 

I  now  pondering,  Are  those  women  indeed  gone  ? 
Are  Souls  drown'd  and  destroy'd  so  ? 
Is  only  matter  triumphant  ? 


O  LIVING  ALWAYS — ALWAYS  DYING! 

O  LIVING  always — always  dying  ! 

O  the  burials  of  me,  past  and  present ! 

O  me,  while  I  stride  ahead,  material,  visible,  imperious 

as  ever ! 
O  me,  what  I  was  for  years,  now  dead,  (I  lament  not — 

I  am  content ;) 
O  to  disengage  myself  from  those  corpses  of  me,  which 

I  turn  and  look  at,  where  I  cast  them  ! 
To  pass  on,  (O  living!   always  living!)    and  leave  the 

corpses  behind ! 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


PROUD  Music  OF  THE  STORM. 


1  PKOTTD  music  of  the  storm ! 

Blast  that  careers  so  free,  whistling  across  the  prairies ! 

Strong  hum  of  forest  tree-tops !  Wind  of  the  moun 
tains! 

Personified  dim  shapes  !  you  hidden  orchestras ! 

You  serenades  of  phantoms,  with  instruments  alert, 

Blending,  with  Nature's  rhythmus,  all  the  tongues  of 
nations  ; 

You  chords  left  as  by  vast  composers !  you  choruses ! 

You  formless,  free,  religious  dances !  you  from  the 
Orient ! 

You  undertone  of  rivers,  roar  of  pouring  cataracts  ; 

You  sounds  from  distant  guns,  with  galloping  cavalry ! 

Echoes  of  camps,  with  all  the  different  bugle-calls! 

Trooping  tumultuous,  filling  the  midnight  late,  bending 
me  powerless, 

Entering  my  lonesome  slumber-chamber — Why  have 
you  seiz'd  me  ? 

2 

2  Come  forward,  O  my  Soul,  and  let  the  rest  retire  ; 
Listen — lose  not — it  is  toward  thee  they  tend  ; 
Parting  the  midnight,  entering  my  slumber-chamber, 
For  thee  they  sing  and  dance,  O  Soul. 


18  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

3  A  festival  song ! 

The  duet  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride — a  marriage- 
march, 

With  lips  of  love,  and  hearts  of  lovers,  filTd  to  the  brim 
with  love  ; 

The  red-flush'd  cheeks,  and  perfumes  —  the  cortege 
swarming,  full  of  friendly  faces,  young  and  old, 

To  flutes'  clear  notes,  and  sounding  harps'  cantabile. 


4  Now  loud  approaching  drums ! 

Victoria  1  see'st  thou  in  powder-smoke  the  banners  torn 

but  flying  ?  the  rout  of  the  baffled  ? 
Hearest  those  shouts  of  a  conquering  army  ? 

6  (Ah,  Soul,  the  sobs  of  women — the  wounded  groaning 

in  agony, 
The  hiss  and  crackle  of  flames — the  blacken'd  ruins — 

the  embers  of  cities, 
The  dirge  and  desolation  of  mankind.) 


6  Now  airs  antique  and  medieval  fill  me ! 

I  see  and  hear  old  harpers  with  their  harps,  at  Welsh 

festivals  : 

I  hear  the  minnesingers,  singing  their  lays  of  love, 
I  hear  the  minstrels,  gleemen,  troubadours,  of  the  feudal 


7  Now  the  great  organ  sounds, 

Tremulous — while  underneath,  (as  the  hid  footholds  of 

the  earth, 

On  which  arising,  rest,  and  leaping  forth,  depend, 
All  shapes  of  beauty,  grace  and  strength — all  hues  we 

know, 
Green  blades  of  grass,  and  warbling  birds — children 

that  gambol  and  play — the  clouds  of  heaven 

above,) 


PKOUD  Music  OF  THE  STOKM.  19 

The  strong  base  stands,  and  its  pulsations  intermits 

not, 
Bathing,  supporting,  merging  all  the  rest — maternity 

of  all  the  rest ; 

And  with  it  every  instrument  in  multitudes, 
The  players  playing — all  the  world's  musicians, 
The  solemn  hymns  and  masses,  rousing  adoration, 
All  passionate  heart-chants,  sorrowful  appeals, 
The  measureless  sweet  vocalists  of  ages, 
And  for  their  solvent  setting,  Earth's  own  diapason, 
Of  winds  and  woods  and  mighty  ocean  waves  ; 
A  new  composite  orchestra — binder  of  years  and  climes 

— ten-fold  renewer, 

As  of  the  far-back  days  the  poets  tell — the  Paradiso, 
The  straying  thence,  the  separation  long,  but  now  the 

wandering  done, 

The  journey  done,  the  Journeyman  come  home, 
And  Man  and  Art  with  Nature  fused  again. 

6 

8  Tutti !  for  Earth  and  Heaven  ! 

The  Almighty  Leader  now  for  me,  for  once,  has  signal'd 
with  his  wand. 

9  The  manly  strophe  of  the  husbands  of  the  world, 
And  all  the  wives  responding. 

10  The  tongues  of  violins  ! 

(I  think,  O  tongues,  ye  tell  this  heart,  that  cannot  tell 

itself  ; 
This  brooding,  yearning  heart,  that  cannot  tell  itself.) 


11  Ah,  from  a  little  child, 

Thou  knowest,   Soul,  how  to  me  all  sounds  became 

music  ; 

My  mother's  voice,  in  lullaby  or  hymn  ; 
(The  voice — O  tender  voices — memory's  loving  voices  ! 
Last  miracle  of  all — O  dearest  mother's,  sister's,  voices;) 


20  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  rain,  the   growing  corn,  the  breeze   among  the 

long-leav'd  corn, 

The  measur'd  sea-surf,  beating  on  the  sand, 
The  twittering  bird,  the  hawk's  sharp  scream, 
The  wild-fowl's  notes  at  night,  as  flying  low,  migrating 

north  or  south,  . 
The  psalm  in  the  country  church,  or  mid  the  clustering 

trees,  the  open  air  camp-meeting, 
The  fiddler  in  the  tavern — the  glee,  the  long-strung 

sailor-song, 
The  lowing  cattle,  bleating  sheep — the  crowing  cock  at 

dawn. 

8 

12  All  songs  of  current  lands  come  sounding  'round  me, 
The  German  airs  of  friendship,  wine  and  love, 

Irish  ballads,  merry  jigs  and  dances — English  warbles, 
Chansons  of  France,  Scotch  tunes — and  o'er  the  rest, 
Italia's  peerless  compositions. 

13  Across  the  stage,  with  pallor  on  her  face,  yet  lurid 

passion, 
Stalks  Norma,  brandishing  the  dagger  in  her  hand. 

14  I  see  poor  crazed  Lucia's  eyes'  unnatural  gleam  ; 
Her  hair  down  her  back  falls  loose  and  dishevell'd. 

15  I  see  where  Ernani,  walking  the  bridal  garden, 
Amid  the  scent  of   night-roses,  radiant,   holding  his 

bride  by  the  hand, 
Hears  the  infernal  call,  the  death-pledge  of  the  horn. 

16  To  crossing  swords,  and  grey  hairs  bared  to  heaven, 
The  clear,  electric  base  and  baritone  of  the  world, 
The  trombone  duo — Libertad  forever ! 

17  From  Spanish  chestnut  trees'  dense  shade, 
By  old  and  heavy  convent  walls,  a  wailing  song, 

Song  of  lost  love — the  torch  of  youth  and  life  quench'd 

in  despair, 
Song  of  the  dying  swan — Fernando's  heart  is  breaking. 


PROUD  Music  OF  THE  STORM.  21 

18  Awaking  from   her  woes   at  last,   retriev'd  Amina 

sings ; 

Copious  as  stars,  and  glad  as  morning  light,  the  tor 
rents  of  her  joy. 

19  (The  teeming  lady  comes  ! 

The    lustrious  'orb — Venus    contralto — the    blooming 

mother, 
Sister  of  loftiest  gods — Alboni's  self  I  hear.) 


9 

20 


I  hear  those  odes,  symphonies,  operas  ; 
I  hear  in  the  William  Tell,  the  music  of  an  arous'd  and 

angry  people  ; 

I  hear  Meyerbeer's  Huguenots,  the  Prophet,  or  Robert ; 
Gounod's  Faust,  or  Mozart's  Don  Juan. 


10 

21  I  hear  the  dance-music  of  all  nations, 

The  waltz,  (some  delicious  measure,  lapsing,  bathing  me 

in  bliss ;) 
The  bolero,  to  tinkling  guitars  and  clattering  castanets. 

2?  I  see  religious  dances  old  and  new, 
I  hear  the  sound  of  the  Hebrew  lyre, 
I  see  the  Crusaders  marching,  bearing  the  cross  on 

high,  to  the  martial  clang  of  cymbals  ; 
I  hear  dervishes  monotonously  chanting,  interspers'd 

with  frantic  shouts,  as  they  spin  around,  turning 

always  towards  Mecca  ; 
I  see  the  rapt  religious  dances  of  the  Persians  and  the 

Arabs  ; 
Again,  at  Eleusis,  home  of  Ceres,  I  see  the  modern 

Greeks  dancing, 
I  hear  them  clapping  their  hands,  as  they  bend  their 

bodies, 
I  hear  the  metrical  shuffling  of  their  feet. 


22  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

23  I  see  again  the  wild  old  Corybantian  dance,  the  per 

formers  wounding  each  other ; 
I  see  the  Koman  youth,  to  the  shrill  sound  of  flageolets, 

throwing  and  catching  their  weapons, 
As  they  fall  on  their  knees,  and  rise  again. 

84  I  hear  from  the  Mussulman  mosque  the  muezzin 

calling ; 
I  see  the  worshippers  within,  (nor  form,  nor  sermon, 

argument,  nor  word, 
But  silent,   strange,   devout — rais'd,   glowing  heads — 

extatic  faces.) 

11 

25  I  hear  the  Egyptian  harp  of  many  strings, 
The  primitive  chants  of  the  Nile  boatmen  ; 
The  sacred  imperial  hymns  of  China, 

To  the  delicate  sounds  of  the  king,  (the  stricken  wood 

and  stone  ;) 

Or  to  Hindu  flutes,  and  the  fretting  twang  of  the  vina, 
A  band  of  bayaderes. 

12 

26  Now  Asia,  Africa  leave  me — Europe,  seizing,  inflates 

me  ; 

To  organs  huge,  and  bands,  I  hear  as  from  vast  con 
courses  of  voices, 

Luther's  strong  hymn,  Einefeste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott ; 

Rossini's  Slabat  Mater  dolorosa  ; 

Or,  floating  in  some  high  cathedral  dim,  with  gorgeous 
color'd  windows, 

The  passionate  Agnus  Dei,  or  Gloria  in  Excelsis. 

13 

27  Composers !  mighty  maestros  ! 

And  you,  sweet  singers  of  old  lands — Soprani !  Tenori ! 

Bassi ! 

To  you  a  new  bard,  carolling  free  in  the  west, 
Obeisant,  sends  his  love. 


PBOUD  Music  OF  THE  STOEM.  23 

28  (Such  led  to  thee,  O  Soul ! 

All  senses,  shows  and  objects,  lead  to  thee, 
But  now,  it  seems  to  me,  sound  leads  o'er  all  the 
rest.) 

14 

29  I  hear  the  annual  singing  of  the  children  in  St.  Paul's 

Cathedral ; 

Or,  under  the  high  roof  of  some  colossal  hall,  the  sym 
phonies,  oratorios  of  Beethoven,  Handel,  or 
Haydn  ; 

The  Creation,  in  billows  of  godhood  laves  me. 

30  Give  me  to  hold  all  sounds,   (I,  madly  struggling, 

C17>) 

Fill  me  with  all  the  voices  of  the  universe, 
Endow  me  with  their  throbbings — Nature's  also, 
The   tempests,   waters,   winds — operas    and    chants — 

marches  and  dances, 

Utter — pour  in — for  I  would  take  them  all. 
x 

15 

81  Then  I  woke  softly. 

And   pausing,   questioning   awhile  the   music  of    my 

dream, 
And  questioning  all  those  reminiscences — the  tempest 

in  its  fury, 

And  all  the  songs  of  sopranos  and  tenors, 
And  those  rapt  oriental  dances,  of  religious  fervor, 
And  the  sweet  varied  instruments,  and  the  diapason  of 

organs, 
And  all   the   artless  plaints   of    love,  and  grief  and 

death, 
I  said  to  my  silent,  curious  Soul,  out  of  the  bed  of  the 

slumber-chamber, 

Come,  for  I  have  found  the  clue  I  sought  so  long, 
Let  us  go  forth  refreshed  amid  the  day, 
Cheerfully  tallying  life,  walking  the  world,  the  real, 
Nourished  henceforth  by  our  celestial  dream. 


24  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

32  And  I  said,  moreover, 

Haply,  what  thou  hast  heard,  O  Soul,  was  not  the  sound 

of  winds, 
Nor  dream  of  raging  storm,  nor  sea-hawk's  flapping 

wings,  nor  harsh  scream, 
Nor  vocalism  of  sun-bright  Italy, 
Nor  German   organ  majestic — nor  vast  concourse  of 

voices — nor  layers  of  harmonies  ; 
Nor  strophes  of  husbands  and  wives — nor  sound  of 

marching  soldiers, 

Nor  flutes,  nor  harps,  nor  the  bugle-calls  of  camps  ; 
But,  to  a  new  rhythmus  fitted  for  thee, 
Poems,  bridging  the  way  from  Life  to  Death,  vaguely 

wafted  in  night  air,  uncaught,  unwritten, 
Which,  let  us  go  forth  in  the  bold  day,  and  write. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


ASHES  OF  SOLDIERS. 


Again  a  verse  for  sake  of  you, 

You  soldiers  in  the  ranks — you  Volunteers, 

Who  bravely  fighting,  silent  fell, 

To  fill  unmention'd  graves. 


ASHES   OF   SOLDIERS. 

1  ASHES  of  soldiers  ! 

As  I  muse,  retrospective,  murmuring  a  chant  in  thought, 
Lo !  the  war  resumes — again  to  my  sense  your  shapes, 
And  again  the  advance  of  armies. 

2  Noiseless  as  mists  and  vapors, 

From  their  graves  in  the  trenches  ascending, 

From  the  cemeteries  all  through  Virginia  and  Ten 
nessee, 

From  every  point  of  the  compass,  out  of  the  countless 
unnamed  graves, 

In  wafted  clouds,  in  myriads  large,  or  squads  of  twos 
or  threes,  or  single  ones,  they  come, 

And  silently  gather  round  me, 

3  Now  sound  no  note,  O  trumpeters ! 

Not  at  the  head  of  my  cavalry,  parading  on  spirited 

horses, 
With   sabres   drawn    and   glist'ning,   and  carbines  by 

their  thighs — (ah,  my  brave  horsemen  ! 
2 


26  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

My  handsome,  tan-faced  horsemen !  what  life,  what  joy 

and  pride, 
With  all  the  perils,  were  yours !) 

4  Nor  you  drummers — neither  at  reveille,  at  dawn, 
Nor  the  long  roll    alarming  the  camp — nor  even  the 

muffled  beat  for  a  burial ; 
Nothing  from  you,  this  time,  O  drummers,  bearing  my 

warlike  drums. 

6  But  aside  from  these,  and  the  marts  of  wealth,  and 

the  crowded  promenade, 
Admitting  around  me  comrades  close,  unseen  by  the 

rest,  and  voiceless, 
The  slain  elate  and  alive  again — the  dust  and  debris 

alive, 
I  chant  this  chant  of  my  silent  soul,  in  the  name  of  all 

dead  soldiers. 

6  Faces  so  pale,  with  wondrous  eyes,  very  dear,  gather 

closer  yet ; 
Draw  close,  but  speak  not. 

7  Phantoms  of  countless  lost ! 

Invisible  to  the   rest,  henceforth  become  my  compan 
ions! 
Follow  me  ever !  desert  me  not,  while  I  live. 

8  Sweet  are  the  blooming  cheeks  of  the  living !  sweet 

are  the  musical  voices  sounding ! 
But  sweet,  ah  sweet,  are  the  dead,  with  their  silent  eyes. 

9  Dearest  comrades !  all  is  over  and  long  gone  ; 
But  love  is  not  over — and  what  love,  O  comrades  ! 
Perfume    from    battle-fields   rising  —  up  from    fcetor 

arising, 

10  Perfume  therefore  my  chant,  0  love  !  immortal  Love  ! 
Give  me  to  bathe  the  memories  of  all  dead  soldiers, 
Shroud  them,  embalm  them,   cover  them  all  over  with 

tender  pride. 


ASHES  OF  SOLDIEBS.  27 

11  Perfume  all !  make  all  wholesome  ! 
Make  these  ashes  to  nourish  and  blossom, 

O  love  !  O  chant !  solve  all,  fructify  all  with  the  last 
chemistry. 

12  Give  me  exhaustless — make  me  a  fountain, 

That  I  exhale  love  from  me  wherever  I  go,  like  a  moist 

perennial  dew, 
For  the  ashes  of  all  dead  soldiers. 


IN  MIDNIGHT  SLEEP. 

i 

IN  midnight  sleep,  of  many  a  face  of  anguish, 

Of  the  look  at  first  of  the  mortally  wounded — of  that 

indescribable  look  ; 

Of  the  dead  on  their  backs,  with  arms  extended  wide, 
I  dream,  I  dream,  I  dream. 


Of  scenes  of  nature,  fields  and  mountains  ; 

Of  skies,  so  beauteous  after  a  storm — and  at  night  the 

moon  so  unearthly  bright, 
Shining    sweetly,    shining   down,    where  we   dig    the 

trenches  and  gather  the  heaps, 
I  dream,  I  dream,  I  dream. 


Long,  long  have  they  pass'd — faces  and  trenches  and 
fields  ; 

Where  through  the  carnage  I  moved  with  a  callous  com 
posure — or  away  from  the  fallen, 

Onward  I  sped  at  the  time — But  now  of  their  forms  at 

night, 
I  dream,  I  dream,  I  dream. 


28  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


CAMPS  OF  GREEN. 

1  NOT  alone  those  camps  of  white,  O  soldiers, 
When,  as  order'd  forward,  after  a  long  march, 
Footsore   and  weary,  soon  as   the   light  lessen'd,  we 

halted  for  the  night ; 
Some  of  us  so  fatigued,  carrying  the  gun  and  knapsack, 

dropping  asleep  in  our  tracks  ; 
Others  pitching  the  little  tents,  and  the  fires  lit  up 

began  to  sparkle  ; 
Outposts  of  pickets  posted,  surrounding,  alert  through 

the  dark, 

And  a  word  provided  for  countersign,  careful  for  safety; 
Till  to  the  call  of  the  drummers  at  daybreak  loudly 

beating  the  drums, 
We  rose  up  refresh'd,  the  night  and  sleep  pass'd  over, 

and  resumed  our  journey, 
Or  proceeded  to  battle. 

2  Lo !  the  camps  of  the  tents  of  green, 

Which  the  days  of  peace  keep  filling,  and  the  days  of 

war  keep  filling, 
With  a  mystic  army,  (is  it  too  order'd  forward  ?  is  it 

too  only  halting  awhile, 
Till  night  and  sleep  pass  over  ?) 

3  Now  in  those  camps  of  green — in  their  tents  dotting 

the  world  ; 

In  the  parents,  children,  husbands,  wives,  in  them — in 
the  old  and  young, 

Sleeping  under  the  sunlight,  sleeping  under  the  moon 
light,  content  and  silent  there  at  last, 

Behold  the  mighty  bivouac-field,  and  waiting-camp  of 
all, 

Of  corps  and  generals  all,  and  the  President  over  the 
corps  and  generals  all, 

And  of  each  of  us,  O  soldiers,  and  of  each  and  all  in 
the  ranks  we  fought, 

(There  without  hatred  we  shall  all  meet.) 


ASHES  or  SOLDIERS.  29 

4  For  presently,  O  soldiers,  we  too  camp  in  our  place  in 

the  bivouac-camps  of  green  ; 
But  we  need  not  provide  for  outposts,  nor  word  for  the 

countersign, 
Nor  drummer  to  beat  the  morning  drum. 


TO  A  CERTAIN  CIVILIAN. 

DID  YOU  ask  dulcet  rhymes  from  me  ? 

Did  you  seek  the  civilian's  peaceful  and  languishing 
rhymes  ? 

Did  you  find  what  I  sang  erewhile  so  hard  to  follow  ? 

Why  I  was  not  singing  erewhile  for  you  to  follow,  to 
understand — nor  am  I  now  ; 

(I  have  been  born  of  the  same  as  the  war  was  born  ; 

The  drum-corps'  harsh  rattle  is  to  me  sweet  music — I 
love  well  the  martial  dirge, 

With  slow  wail,  and  convulsive  throb,  leading  the  offi 
cer's  funeral :) 

— What  to  such  as  you,  anyhow,  such  a  poet  as  I  ? — 
therefore  leave  my  works, 

And  go  lull  yourself  with  what  you  can  understand — 
and  with  piano-tunes ; 

For  I  lull  nobody — and  you  will  never  understand  me. 


PENSIVE  ON  HER  DEAD  GAZING,  I  HEARD  THE 
MOTHER  OF  ALL. 

PENSIVE,  on  her  dead  gazing,  I  heard  the  Mother  of  All, 

Desperate,  on  the  torn  bodies,  on  the  forms  covering 
the  battle-fields  gazing  ; 

(As  the  last  gun  ceased — but  the  scent  of  the  powder- 
smoke  linger'd  ;) 

As  she  calTd  to  her  earth  with  mournful  voice  while  she 
stalk'd  : 


30  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

Absorb  them  well,  O  my  earth,  she  cried — I  charge  you, 

lose  not  my  sons  !  lose  not  an  atom  ; 
And  you  streams,  absorb  them  well,  taking  their  dear 

blood ; 
And  you  local  spots,  and  you  airs  that  swim  above 

lightly, 
And  all  you  essences  of  soil  and  growth — and  you,  my 

rivers'  depths ; 
And  you,  mountain  sides — and  the  woods  where  my 

dear  children's  blood,  trickling,  redden'd  ; 
And  you  trees,  down  in  your  roots,  to  bequeath  to  all 

future  trees, 
My  dead  absorb — my  young  men's  beautiful  bodies 

absorb — and  their  precious,  precious,  precious 

blood ; 
Which  holding  in  trust  for  me,  faithfully  back  again 

give  me,  many  a  year  hence, 

In  unseen  essence  and  odor  of  surface  and  grass,  centu 
ries  hence ; 
In  blowing  airs  from  the  fields,  back  again  give  me  my 

darlings — give  my  immortal  heroes  ; 
Exhale   me   them   centuries  hence — breathe  me  their 

breath — let  not  an  atom  be  lost ; 
O  years  and  graves !   O  air  and  soil !  O  my  dead,  an 

aroma  sweet ! 
Exhale  them  perennial,  sweet  death,  years,  centuries 

hence. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL 
HYMN. 


WHEN    LILACS    LAST    IN    THE    DOOR- 
YARD    BLOOM'D. 


1  WHEN  lilacs  last  in  the  door-yard  bloom'd, 
And  the  great  star  early  droop'd  in  the  western  sky  in 
the  night, 

1  mourn'd — and  yet  shall  mourn  with  ever-returning 

spring. 

2  O   ever-returning    spring  !    trinity  sure   to  me  you 

bring ; 
Lilac  blooming  perennial,  and  drooping  star  in  the 

west, 
And  thought  of  him  I  love. 


8  O  powerful,  western,  fallen  star ! 

O  shades  of  night !  O  moody,  tearful  night ! 

O  great  star  disappear'd !  O  the  black  murk  that  hides 

the  star ! 
O  cruel  hands  that  hold  me  powerless  !  O  helpless  soul 

of  me! 
0  harsh  surrounding  cloud,  that  will  not  free  my  soul ! 


32  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


4  In  the  door-yard  fronting  an  old  farm-house,  near  the 

white-wash'd  palings, 
Stands  the  lilac  bush,  tall-growing,  with  heart-shaped 

leaves  of  rich  green, 
With  many  a  pointed  blossom,  rising,  delicate,  with  the 

perfume  strong  I  love, 
With  every  leaf  a  miracle  ......  and  from  this  bush  in 

the  door-yard, 
With  delicate-color'd  blossoms,  and  heart-shaped  leaves 

of  rich  green, 
A  sprig,  with  its  flower,  I  break. 


6  In  the  swamp,  in  secluded  recesses, 

A  shy  and  hidden  bird  is  warbling  a  song. 

6  Solitary,  the  thrush, 

The  hermit,  withdrawn  to  himself,  avoiding  the  settle 
ments, 
Sings  by  himself  a  song. 

7  Song  of  the  bleeding  throat ! 

Death's  outlet  song  of  life — (for  well,  dear  brother,  I 

know, 
If  thou  wast  not  gifted  to  sing,  thou  would'st  surely 

die.) 


8  Over  the  breast  of  the  spring,  the  land,  amid  cities, 
Amid  lanes,  and  through  old  woods,  (where  lately  the 

violets  peep'd  from  the  ground,  spotting  the  gray 

debris  ;) 
Amid  the  grass  in  the  fields  each  side  of  the  lanes — 

passing  the  endless  grass  ; 
Passing  the  yellow-spear'd  wheat,  every  grain  from  its 

shroud  in  the  dark-brown  fields  uprising  ; 
Passing  the  apple-tree  blows  of  white  and  pink  in  the 

orchards ; 


PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL  HYMN.  33 

Carrying  a  corpse  to  where  it  shall  rest  in  the  grave, 
Night  and  day  journeys  a  coffin. 


9  Coffin  that  passes  through  lanes  and  streets, 
Through  day  and  night,  with  the  great  cloud  darkening 

the  land, 
With  the  pomp  of  the  inloop'd  flags,  with  the  cities 

draped  in  black, 
With  the  show  of  the  States  themselves,  as  of  crape- 

veil'd  women,  standing, 
With  processions  long  and  winding,  and  the  flambeaus 

of  the  night, 
With  the  countless  torches  lit — with  the  silent  sea  of 

faces,  and  the  unbared  heads, 
With  the  waiting  depot,  the  arriving  coffin,  and  the 

sombre  faces, 
With  dirges  through  the  night,  with  the  thousand  voices 

rising  strong  and  solemn  ; 
With  all  the  mournful  voices  of  the  dirges,  pour'd  around 

the  coffin, 
The  dim-lit  churches  and  the  shuddering  organs — Where 

amid  these  you  journey, 

With  the  tolling,  tolling  bells'  perpetual  clang  ; 
Here !  coffin  that  slowly  passes, 
I  give  you  my  sprig  of  lilac. 


10  (Nor  for  you,  for  one,  alone  ; 

Blossoms  and  branches  green  to  coffins  all  I  bring  : 
For  fresh  as  the  morning — thus  would  I  carol  a  song 
for  you,  O  sane  and  sacred  death. 

11  All  over  bouquets  of  roses, 

O  death  !  I  cover  you  over  with  roses  and  early  lilies  ; 
But  mostly  and  now  the  lilac  that  blooms  the  first, 
Copious,  I  break,  I  break  the  sprigs  from  the  bushes  ; 
With  loaded  arms  I  come,  pouring  for  you, 
For  you,  and  the  coffins  all  of  you,  O  death.) 


34  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

8 

12  O  western  orb,  sailing  the  heaven ! 

Now  I  know  what  you  must  have  meant,  as  a  month 

since  we  walk'd, 

As  we  walk'd  up  and  down  in  the  dark  blue  so  mystic, 
As  we  walk'd  in  silence  the  transparent  shadowy  night, 
As  I  saw  you  had  something  to  tell,  as  you  bent  to  me 

night  after  night, 
As  you  droop'd  from  the  sky  low  down,  as  if  to  my  side, 

(while  the  other  stars  all  look'd  on  ;) 
As  we  wander 'd  together  the  solemn  night,  (for  some 
thing,  I  know  not  what,  kept  me  from  sleep  ;) 
As  the  night  advanced,  and  I  saw  on  the  rim  of  the 

west,  ere  you  went,  how  full  you  were  of  woe  ; 
As  I  stood  on  the  rising  ground  in  the  breeze,  in  the 

cold  transparent  night, 
As  I  watch'd  where  you  pass'd  and  was  lost  in  the 

netherward  black  of  the  night, 
As  my  soul,  in  its  trouble,  dissatisfied,  sank,  as  where 

you,  sad  orb, 
Concluded,  dropt  in  the  night,  and  was  gone. 

9 

13  Sing  on,  there  in  the  swamp ! 

0  singer  bashful  and  tender !  I  hear  your  notes — I  hear 

your  call ; 

1  hear — I  come  presently — I  understand  you  ; 

But  a  moment  I  linger — for  the  lustrous  star  has  de- 

tain'd  me  ; 
The  star,  my  departing  comrade,  holds  and  detains  me. 

10 

14  O  how  shall  I  warble  myself  for  the  dead  one  there  I 

loved  ? 
And  how  shall  I  deck  my  song  for  the  large  sweet  soul 

that  has  gone  ? 
And  what  shall  my  perfume  be,  for  the  grave  of  him  I 

love? 


PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL  HYMN.  35 

15  Sea- winds,  blown  from  east  and  west, 

Blown  from  the  eastern  sea,  and  blown  from  the  west 
ern  sea,  till  there  on  the  prairies  meeting  : 
These,  and  with  these,  and  the  breath  of  my  chant, 
I  perfume  the  grave  of  him  I  love. 

11 

16  O  what  shall  I  hang  on  the  chamber  walls  ? 

And  what  shall  the  pictures  be  that  I  hang  on  the 

walls, 
To  adorn  the  burial-house  of  him  I  love  ? 

17  Pictures  of  growing  spring,  and  farms,  and  homes, 
With  the  Fourth-month  eve  at  sundown,  and  the  gray 

smoke  lucid  and  bright, 

With  floods  of  the  yellow  gold  of  the  gorgeous,  indo 
lent,  sinking  sun,  burning,  expanding  the  air  ; 
With  the  fresh  sweet  herbage  under  foot,  and  the  pale 

green  leaves  of  the  trees  prolific  ; 
In  the  distance  the  flowing  glaze,  the  breast  of  the  river, 

with  a  wind- dapple  here  and  there  ; 
With  ranging  hills  on  the  banks,  with  many  a  line 

against  the  sky,  and  shadows  ; 
And  the  city  at  hand,  with  dwellings  so  dense,  and 

stacks  of  chimneys, 
And  all  the  scenes  of  life,  and  the  workshops,  and  the 

workmen  homeward  returning. 

12 

18  Lo !  body  and  soul !  this  land ! 

Mighty  Manhattan,  with  spires,  and  the  sparkling  and 
hurrying  tides,  and  the  ships  ; 

The  varied  and  ample  land — the  South  and  the  North 
in  the  light — Ohio's  shores,  and  flashing  Mis 
souri, 

And  ever  the  far-spreading  prairies,  eover'd  with  grass 
and  corn. 

19  Lo  !  the  most  excellent  sun,  so  calm  and  haughty  ; 
The  violet  and  purple  morn,  with  just-felt  breezes  ; 


36  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  gentle,  soft-born,  measureless  light ; 

The    miracle,    spreading,    bathing    all  —  the    fulfill'd 

noon  ; 
The  coming  eve,  delicious — the  welcome  night,  and  the 

stars, 
Over  my  cities  shining  all,  enveloping  man  and  land. 

13 

20  Sing  on !  sing  on,  you  gray-brown  bird ! 

Sing  from  the  swamps,  the  recesses — pour  your  chant 

from  the  bushes ; 
Limitless   out  of    the   dusk,   out   of   the   cedars   and 

pines. 

21  Sing  on,  dearest  brother — warble  your  reedy  song  ; 
Loud  human  song,  with  voice  of  uttermost  woe. 

22  O  liquid,  and  free,  and  tender  ! 

O  wild  and  loose  to  my  soul !  O  wondrous  singer  ! 

You  only  I  hear yet  the  star  holds  me,  (but  will 

soon  depart ;) 
Tet  the  lilac,  with  mastering  odor,  holds  me. 

14 

23  Now  while  I  sat  in  the  day,  and  look'd  forth, 

In  the  close  of  the  day,  with  its  light,  and  the  fields  of 
spring,  and  the  farmer  preparing  his  crops, 

In  the  large  unconscious  scenery  of  my  land,  with  its 
lakes  and  forests, 

In  the  heavenly  aerial  beauty,  (after  the  perturb'd 
winds,  and  the  storms  ;) 

Under  the  arching  heavens  of  the  afternoon  swift  pass 
ing,  and  the  voices  of  children  and  women, 

The  many-moving  sea-tides, — and  I  saw  the  ships  how 
they  saiPd, 

And  the  summer  approaching  with  richness,  and  the 
fields  all  busy  with  labor, 

And  the  infinite  separate  houses,  how  they  all  went  on, 
each  with  its  meals  and  minutia  of  daily  usages  ; 


PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL  HYMN.  37 

And  the  streets,  how  their  throbbings  throbb'd,  and  the 
cities  pent — lo  !  then  and  there, 

Falling  upon  them  all,  and  among  them  all,  enveloping 
me  with  the  rest, 

Appear'd  the  cloud,  appear'd  the  long  black  trail ; 

And  I  knew  Death,  its  thought,  and  the  sacred  knowl 
edge  of  death. 

15 

24  Then  with  the  knowledge  of  death  as  walking  one 

side  of  me, 

And  the  thought  of  death  close-walking  the  other  side 
of  me, 

And  I  in  the  middle,  as  with  companions,  and  as  hold 
ing  the  hands  of  companions, 

I  fled  forth  to  the  hiding  receiving  night,  that  talks 
not, 

Down  to  the  shores  of  the  water,  the  path  by  the  swamp 
in  the  dimness, 

To  the  solemn  shadowy  cedars,  and  ghostly  pines  £o 
still. 

25  And  the  singer  so  shy  to  the  rest  receiv'd  me  ; 

The  gray-brown   bird  I  know,  receiv'd  us  comrades 

three  ; 
And  he  sang  what  seem'd  the  carol  of  death,  and  a 

verse  for  him  I  love. 

26  From  deep  secluded  recesses, 

From  the  fragrant  cedars,  and  the  ghostly  pines  so 

stiU, 
Came  the  carol  of  the  bird. 

27  And  the  charm  of  the  carol  rapt  me, 

As  I  held,  as  if  by  their  hands,  my  comrades  in  the 

night ; 
And  the  voice  of  my  spirit  tallied   the  song  of  the 

bird. 


38  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

DEA  TH    CAROL. 
16 

28  Come,  lovely  and  soothing  Death, 

Undulate  round  the  world,  serenely  arriving,  arriving, 
In  the  day,  in  the  night,  to  all,  to  each, 
Sooner  or  later,  delicate  Death. 

29  Prais'd  be  the  fathomless  universe, 

For  life  and  joy,  and  for  objects  and  knowledge  curious  $ 
And  for  love,  sweet  love — But  praise  !  praise  !  praise  ! 
For  the  sure-enwinding  arms  of  cool-enfolding  Death. 

30  Dark  Mother,  always  gliding  near,  with  soft  feet, 
Have  none  chanted  for  thee  a  chant  of  fullest  welcome? 
Then  I  chant  it  for  thee — I  glorify  thee  above  all ; 

I  bring  thee  a  song  that  when  thou  must  indeed  come,  come 
unfalteringly. 

31  Approach,  strong  Deliveress  I 

When  it  is  so — when  thou  hast  taken  them,  I  joyously  sing 

the  dead, 

Lost  in  the  loving,  floating  ocean  of  thee, 
Laved  in  the  flood  of  thy  bliss,  0  Death. 

32  From  me  to  thee  glad  serenades, 

Dances  for  thee  I  propose,  saluting  thee — adornments  and 

f eastings  for  thee  ; 
And  the  sights  of  the  open  landscape,  and  the  high-spread 

sky,  are  fitting, 
And  life  and  the  fields,  and  the  huge  and  thoughtful  night. 

33  The  night,  in  silence,  under  many  a  star  ; 

The  ocean  shore,  and  the  husky  whispering  wave,  whose 

voice  I  know  ; 

And  the  soul  turning  to  thee,  0  vast  and  well-veil'd  Death, 
And  the  body  gratefully  nestling  close  to  thee. 

34  Over  the  tree-tops  I  float  thee  a  song  ! 

Over  the  rising  and  sinking  waves — over  the  myriad  fields, 
and  the  prairies  wide  ; 


PRESIDENT  LINCOLN'S  BURIAL  HYMN.  39 

Over  the  dense-pack 'd  cities  all,  and  the  teeming  wharves 

and  ways, 
1  float  this  carol  with  joy,  with  joy  to  thee,  0  Death! 

17 

36  To  the  tally  of  ray  soul, 

Loud  and  strong  kept  up  the  gray-brown  bird, 

With  pure,  deliberate  notes,  spreading,  filling  the  night. 

36  Loud  in  the  pines  and  cedars  dim, 

Clear  in  the  freshness  moist,  and  the  swamp-perfume  ; 
And  I  with  my  comrades  there  in  the  night. 

37  While  my  sight  that  was  bound  in  my  eyes  unclosed, 
As  to  long  panoramas  of  visions. 

18 

88  I  saw  askant  the  armies  ; 

And  I  saw,  as  in  noiseless  dreams,  hundreds  of  battle- 


Borne  through  the  smoke  of  the  battles,  and  pierc'd 

with  missiles,  I  saw  them, 
And  carried  hither  and  yon  through  the  smoke,  and 

torn  and  bloody ; 
And  at  last  but  a  few  shreds  left  on  the  staffs,  (and  all 

in  silence,) 
And  the  staffs  all  splinter'd  and  broken. 

39  I  saw  battle-corpses,  myriads  of  them, 

And  the  white  skeletons  of  young  men — I  saw  them  ; 
I  saw  the  debris  and  debris  of  all  the  dead  soldiers  of 

the  war  ; 

But  I  saw  they  were  not  as  was  thought ; 
They  themselves  were  fully  at  rest — they  suffer'd  not ; 
The  living  remain'd  and  suffer'd — the  mother  suffer'd, 
And  the  wife  and  the  child,  and  the  musing  comrade 

suffer'd, 
And  the  armies  that  remained  suffer'd. 

19 

40  Passing  the  visions,  passing  the  night ; 
Passing,  unloosing  the  hold  of  my  comrades'  hands  ; 


40  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

Passing  the  song  of  the  hermit  bird,  and  the  tallying 
song  of  my  soul, 

(Victorious  song,  death's  outlet  song,  yet  varying,  ever- 
altering  song, 

As  low  and  wailing,  yet  clear  the  notes,  rising  and  fall 
ing,  flooding  the  night, 

Sadly  sinking  and  fainting,  as  warning  and  warning, 
and  yet  again  bursting  with  joy, 

Covering  the  earth,  and  filling  the  spread  of  the  heaven, 

As  that  powerful  psalm  in  the  night  I  heard  from 
recesses,) 

Passing,  I  leave  thee,  lilac  with  heart-shaped  leaves  ; 

I  leave  thee  there  in  the  door-yard,  blooming,  returning 
with  spring. 

41  I  cease  from  my  song  for  thee  ; 

From  my  gaze  on  thee  in  the  west,  fronting  the  west, 

communing  with  thee, 
O  comrade  lustrous,  with  silver  face  in  the  night. 

20 

42  Yet  each  I  keep,  and  all,  retrievements  out  of  the 

night ; 

The  song,  the  wondrous  chant  of  the  gray-brown  bird. 

And  the  tallying  chant,  the  echo  arous'd  in  my  soul, 

With  the  lustrous  and  drooping  star,  with  the  counte 
nance  full  of  woe. 

With  the  lilac  tall,  and  its  blossoms  of  mastering  odor  ; 

With  the  holders  holding  my  hand,  nearing  the  call  of 
the  bird, 

Comrades  mine,  and  I  in  the  midst,  and  their  memory 
ever  I  keep — for  the  dead  I  loved  so  well ; 

For  the  sweetest,  wisest  soul  of  all  my  days  and  lands  . . . 
and  this  for  his  dear  sake  ; 

Lilac  and  star  and  bird,  twined  with  the  chant  of  my 
soul, 

There  in  the  fragrant  pines,  and  the  cedars  dusk  and  dim. 


MEMORIES  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN.  41 

O   CAPTAIN!    MY   CAPTAIN! 


O  CAPTAIN  !  my  Captain !  our  fearful  trip  is  done  ; 
The  ship  has  weather'd  every  rack,  the  prize  we  sought 

is  won  ; 

The  port  is  near,  the  bells  I  hear,  the  people  all  exulting, 
While  follow  eyes  the  steady  keel,  the  vessel  grim  and 

daring  : 

But  O  heart !   heart !   heart ! 
O  the  bleeding  drops  of  red, 

Where  on  the  deck  my  Captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 


O  Captain  !  my  Captain !  rise  up  and  hear  the  bells  ; 
Rise  up — for  you  the  flag  is  flung — for  you  the  bugle 

trills  ; 
For  you  bouquets  and  ribbon'd  wreaths — for  you  the 

shores  a-crowding  ; 
For  you  they  call,  the  swaying  mass,  their  eager  faces 

turning  ; 

Here  Captain  !  dear  father ! 
This  arm  beneath  your  head  ; 

It  is  some  dream  that  on  the  deck, 
You've  fallen  cold  and  dead. 


My  Captain  does  not  answer,  his  lips  are  pale  and  still ; 
My  father  does  not  feel  my  arm,  he  has  no  pulse  nor  will; 
The  ship  is  anchor' d  safe  and  sound,  its  voyage  closed 

and  done  ; 
From  fearful  trip,  the  victor  ship,  comes  in  with  object 

won  : 

Exult,  O  shores,  and  ring,  O  bells ! 
But  I,  with  mournful  tread, 
Walk  the  deck  my  Captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 


42  MEMOKIES  or  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 

HUSH'D    BE   THE    CAMPS    TO-DAY. 

(May  4,  1865.) 
1 

HUSH'D  be  the  camps  to  day  ; 

And,  soldiers,  let  us  drape  our  war-worn  weapons  ; 
And  each  with  musing  soul  retire,  to  celebrate, 
Our  dear  commander's  death. 

2  No  more  for  him  life's  stormy  conflicts  ; 

Nor  victory,  nor  defeat — no  more  time's  dark  events, 

Charging  Kke  ceaseless  clouds  across  the  sky. 


3  But  sing,  poet,  in  our  name  ; 

Sing  of  the  love  we  bore  him — because  you,  dweller  in 
camps,  know  it  truly. 

4  As  they  in  vault  the  coffin  there  ; 

Sing — as  they   close  the  doors  of  earth  upon  him — 

one  verse, 
For  the  heavy  hearts  of  soldiers. 


THIS  DUST  WAS  ONCE  THE  MAN. 

THIS  dust  was  once  the  Man, 

Gentle,  plain,  just  and  resolute — under  whose  cautious 

hand, 
Against  the  foulest  crime  in  history  known  in  any  land 

or  age, 
Was  saved  the  Union  of  These  States. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


POEM  OF  JOYS. 


1  O  TO  make  the  most  jubilant  poem ! 

Even  to  set  off  these,  and  merge  with  these,  the  carols 
of  Death ; 

O  full  of  music!  full  of  manhood,  womanhood,  in 
fancy  ! 

Full  of  common  employments !  full  of  grain  and  trees. 

2  O  for  the  voices  of  animals  !  O  for  the  swiftness  and 

balance  of  fishes! 

O  for  the  dropping  of  rain-drops  in  a  poem  ! 
O  for  the  sunshine,  and  motion  of  waves  in  a  poem. 

3  O  the  joy  of  my  spirit !  it  is  uncaged !  it  darts  like 

lightning ! 

It  is  not  enough  to  have  this  globe,  or  a  certain  time — 
I  will  have  thousands  of  globes,  and  all  time. 


4  O  the  engineer's  joys  ! 
To  go  with  a  locomotive ! 

To  hear  the  hiss  of  steam — the  merry  shriek — the 
steam-whistle — the  laughing  locomotive  ! 

To  push  with  resistless  way,  and  speed  off  in  the  dis 
tance. 

5  O  the  gleesome  saunter  over  fields  and  hill-sides ! 


44  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  leaves  and  flowers  of  the  commonest  weeds — the 

moist  fresh  stillness  of  the  woods, 
The  exquisite  smell  of  the  earth  at    day-break,    and 

all  through  the  forenoon. 

6  O  the  horseman's  and  horsewoman's  joys ! 

The  saddle — the  gallop — the  pressure  upon  the  seat — 
the  cool  gurgling  by  the  ears  and  hair. 

3 

7  O  the  fireman's  joys ! 

I  hear  the  alarm  at  dead  of  night, 

I  hear  bells — shouts ! — I  pass  the  crowd — I  run ! 

The  sight  of  the  flames  maddens  me  with  pleasure. 

8  O  the  joy  of  the  strong-brawn'd  fighter,  towering  in 

the  arena,   in   perfect  condition,   conscious  of 
power,  thirsting  to  meet  his  opponent. 

9  O  the  joy  of  that  vast  elemental  sympathy  which  only 

the  human  Soul  is  capable  of  generating  and 
emitting  in  steady  and  limitless  floods. 

4 

10  O  the  mother's  joys ! 

The  watching — the  endurance — the  precious  love — the 
anguish — the  patiently  yielded  life. 

11  O  the  joy  of  increase,  growth,  recuperation  ; 

The  joy  of  soothing  and  pacifying — the  joy  of  concord 
and  harmony. 

12  O  to  go  back  to  the  place  where  I  was  born ! 
To  hear  the  birds  sing  once  more  ! 

To  ramble   about  the  house  and  barn,  and  over  the 

fields,  once  more, 
And  through  the  orchard  and  along  the  old  lanes  once 

more. 

5 

13  O  male  and  female ! 


POEM  OF  JOYS.  45 

0  the  presence  of  women !  (I  swear  there  is  nothing 

more  exquisite  to  me  than  the  mere  presence  of 

women  ;) 
O  for  the  girl,  my  mate  !  O  for  the  happiness  with  my 

mate ! 
O  the  young  man  as  I  pass !    O  I  am  sick  after  the 

friendship  of  him  who,  I  fear,  is  indifferent  to 

me. 

14  O  the  streets  of  cities ! 

The  flitting  faces — the  expressions,  eyes,  feet,  costumes ! 
O  I  cannot  tell  how  welcome  they  are  to  me. 

6 

15  O  to  have  been  brought  up  on  bays,  lagoons,  creeks, 

or  along  the  coast ! 
O  to  continue  and  be  employ'd  there  all  my  life  ! 

0  the  briny  and  damp  smell — the  shore — the  salt  weeds 

exposed  at  low  water, 

The  work  of  fishermen — the  work  of  the  eel-fisher  and 
clam-fisher. 

16  O  it  is  I ! 

1  come  with  my  clam-rake  and  spade !  I  come  with  my 

eel-spear ; 
Is  the  tide  out  ?  I  join  the  group  of  clam-diggers  on  the 

flats, 
I  laugh  and  work  with  them — I  joke  at  my  work,  like  a 

mettlesome  young  man. 

17  In  winter  I  take  my  eel-basket  and  eel-spear  and 

travel  out  on  foot  on  the  ice — I  have  a  small  axe 
to  cut  holes  in  the  ice  ; 

Behold  me,  well-clothed,  going  gaily,  or  returning  in 
the  afternoon — my  brood  of  tough  boys  accom 
panying  me, 

My  brood  of  grown  and  part-grown  boys,  who  love  to 
be  with  no  one  else  so  well  as  they  love  to  be 
with  me, 

By  day  to  work  with  me,  and  by  night  to  sleep  with  me. 


46  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

18  Or,  another  time,  in  warm  weather,  out  in  a  boat,  to 

lift  the  lobster-pots,  where  they  are  sunk  with 
heavy  stones,  (I  know  the  buoys  ;) 

0  the  sweetness  of  the  Fifth-month  morning  upon  the 

water,  as  I  row,  just  before  sunrise,  toward  the 
buoys ; 

1  pull  the  wicker  pots  up  slantingly — the  dark  green 

lobsters  are  desperate  with  their  claws,  as  I  take 

them  out — I  insert  wooden  pegs  in  the  joints  of 

their  pincers, 
I  go  to  all  the  places,  one  after  another,  and  then  row 

back  to  the  shore, 
There,  in  a  huge  kettle  of  boiling  water,  the  lobsters 

shall  be  boil'd  till  their  color  becomes  scarlet. 

19  Or,  another  time,  mackerel-taking, 

Voracious,  mad  for  the  hook,  near  the  surface,  they 

seem  to  fill  the  water  for  miles : 
Or,  another  time,  fishing  for  rock-fish  in  Chesapeake 

Bay — I  one  of  the  brown-faced  crew  : 
Or,  another  time,  trailing  for  blue-fish  off  Paumanok,  I 

stand  with  braced  body, 
My  left  foot  is  on  the  gunwale — my  right  arm  throws 

the  coils  of  slender  rope, 
In  sight  around  me  the  quick  veering  and  darting  of 

fifty  skiffs,  my  companions. 


20  O  boating  on  the  rivers ! 

The  voyage  down  the  Niagara,  (the  St.  Lawrence,)— 
the  superb  scenery — the  steamers, 

The  ships  sailing — the  Thousand  Islands — the  occa 
sional  timber-raft,  and  the  raftsmen  with  long- 
reaching  sweep-oars, 

The  little  huts  on  the  rafts,  and  the  stream  of  smoke 
when  they  cook  supper  at  evening. 

21  O  something  pernicious  and  dread  ! 
Something  far  away  from  a  puny  and  pious  life ! 
Something  unproved  !  Something  in  a  trance  ! 


POEM  OF  JOYS.  47 

Something  escaped  from  the  anchorage,  and  driving 
free. 

22  O  to  work  in  mines,  or  forging  iron ! 

Foundry   casting — the   foundry  itself — the   rude  high 

roof — the  ample  and  shadow'd  space, 
The  furnace — the  hot  liquid  pour'd  out  and  running. 

8 

23  O  to  resume  the  joys  of  the  soldier  : 

To  feel  the  presence  of  a  brave  general !  to  feel  his  sym 
pathy  ! 

To  behold  his  calmness !  to  be  warm'd  in  the  rays  of  his 
smile ! 

To  go  to  battle !  to  hear  the  bugles  play,  and  the  drums 
beat! 

To  hear  the  crash  of  artillery !  to  see  the  glittering  of 
the  bayonets  and  musket-barrels  in  the  sun ! 

To  see  men  fall  and  die,  and  not  complain ! 

To  taste  the  savage  taste  of  blood !  to  be  so  devilish ! 

To  gloat  so  over  the  wounds  and  deaths  of  the  enemy. 


24 . 0  the  whaleman's  joys !   O  I  cruise  my  old  cruise 

again! 
I  feel  the  ship's  motion  under  me — I  feel  the  Atlantic 

breezes  fanning  me, 
I  hear  the  cry  again  sent  down  from  the  mast-head — 

There — she  blows  ! 
— Again  I  spring  up  the  rigging,  to  look  with  the  rest 

— We  see — we  descend,  wild  with  excitement, 
I  leap  in  the  lower'd  boak— We  row  toward  our  prey, 

where  he  lies, 

We  approach,  stealthy  and  silent— I  see  the  mountain 
ous  mass,  lethargic,  basking, 
I  see  the  harpooneer  standing  up — I  see  the  weapon 

dart  from  his  vigorous  arm  : 
O  swift,  again,  now,  far  out  in  the  ocean,  the  wounded 

whale,  settling,  running  to  windward,  tows  me  ; 


48  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

— Again  I  see  him  rise   to    breathe — "We  row   close 

again, 
I  see  a  lance  driven  through  his  side,  press'd  deep, 

turn'd  in  the  wound, 
Again  we  back  off — I  see  him  settle  again — the  life  is 

leaving  him  fast, 
As  he  rises,  he  spouts  blood — I  see  him  swim  in  circles 

narrower  and  narrower,  swiftly  cutting  the  water 

— I  see  him  die  ; 
He  gives  one  convulsive  leap  in  the  centre  of  the  circle, 

and  then  falls  flat  and  still  in  the  bloody  foam. 

10 

25  O  the  old  manhood  of  me,  my  joy ! 

My  children  and  grand-children — my  white  hair  and 

beard, 
My  largeness,  calmness,  majesty,  out  of  the  long  stretch 

of  my  life. 

26  O  the  ripen'd  joy  of  womanhood ! 

0  perfect  happiness  at  last ! 

1  am  more  than  eighty  years  of  age — my  hair,  too,  is 

pure  white — I  am  the  most  venerable  mother ; 
How  clear  is  my  mind !  how  all  people  draw  nigh  to 

me! 
What  attractions  are  these,  beyond  any  before?  what 

bloom,  more  than  the  bloom  of  youth  ? 
What  beauty  is  this  that  descends  upon  me,  and  rises 

out  of  me  ? 

27  O  the  orator's  joys ! 

To  inflate  the  chest — to  roll  the  thunder  of  the  voice 
out  from  the  ribs  and  throat, 

To  make  the  people  rage,  weep,  hate,  desire,  with  your 
self, 

To  lead  America — to  quell  America  with  a  great  tongue. 

28  O  the  joy  of  my  soul  leaning  pois'd  on  itself — receiv 

ing  identity  through  materials,  and  loving  them 
— observing  characters,  and  absorbing  them  ; 


POEM  or  JOYS.  49 

O  my  soul,  vibrated  back   to  me,  from   them — from 

facts,    sight,    hearing,    touch,    my  phrenology, 

reason,   articulation,   comparison,   memory,   and 

the  like  ; 
The  real  life  of  my  senses  and  flesh,  transcending  my 

senses  and  flesh  ; 
My  body,  done  with  materials — my  sight,  done  with 

my  material  eyes  ; 
Proved  to  me  this  day,  beyond  cavil,  that  it  is  not  my 

material  eyes  which  finally  see, 
Nor  my  material  body  which  finally  loves,  walks,  laughs, 

shouts,  embraces,  procreates. 


11 

29  O  the  farmer's  joys ! 

Ohioan's,  Illinoisian's,  Wisconsinese',  Kanadian's,  lo- 
wan's,  Kansian's,  Missourian's,  Oregonese'  joys  ; 

To  rise  at  peep  of  day,  and  pass  forth  nimbly  to  work, 

To  plow  land  in  the  fall  for  winter-sown  crops, 

To  plough  land  in  the  spring  for  maize, 

To  train  orchards — to  graft  the  trees — to  gather  apples 
in  the  fall, 

30  O  the  pleasure  with  trees  ! 

The  orchard — the  forest — the  oak,  cedar,  pine,  pekan- 
tree, 

The  honey-locust,  black-walnut,  cottonwood,  and  mag 
nolia. 

12 

31  O  Death !  the  voyage  of  Death ! 

The  beautiful  touch  of  Death,  soothing  and  benumbing 

a  few  moments,  for  reasons  ; 
Myself,   discharging   my  excrementitious  body,  to  be 

burn'd,  or  render'd  to  powder,  or  buried, 
My  real  body  doubtless  left  to  me  for  other  spheres, 
My  voided  body,  nothing  more  to  me,  returning  to  the 

purifications,  further  offices,  eternal  uses  of  the 

earth. 

3 


50  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

13 

82  O  to  bathe  in  the  swimming-bath,  or  in  a  good  place 

along  shore ! 
To  splash  the  water !  to  walk  ankle-deep — to  race  naked 

along  the  shore. 

33  O  to  realize  space ! 

The  plenteousness  of  all — that  there  are  no  bounds  ; 
To  emerge,  and  be  of  the  sky — of  the  sun  and  moon, 
and  the  flying  clouds,  as  one  with  them. 

34  O  the  joy  of  a  manly  self-hood ! 

Personality — to  be  servile  to  none — to  defer  to  none — 

not  to  any  tyrant,  known  or  unknown, 
To  walk  with  erect  carriage,  a  step  springy  and  elastic, 
To  look  with  calm  gaze,  or  with  a  flashing  eye, 
To  speak  with  a  full  and  sonorous  voice,  out  of  a  broad 

chest, 

To  confront  with  your  personality  all  the  other  person 
alities  of  the  earth. 

14 

35  Know'st  thou  the  excellent  joys  of  youth  ? 

Joys  of  the  dear  companions,  and  of  the  merry  word, 

and  laughing  face  ? 
Joys  of  the  glad,  light-beaming  day — joy  of  the  wide- 

breath'd  games  ? 
Joy  of  sweet  music — joy  of  the  lighted  ball-room,  and 

the  dancers  ? 
Joy  of   the    friendly,   plenteous    dinner — the    strong 

carouse,  and  drinking  ? 

15 

36  Yet,  O  my  soul  supreme ! 

Know'st  thou  the  joys  of  pensive  thought? 

Joys  of    the   free    and   lonesome    heart — the  tender, 

gloomy  heart  ? 
Joy  of  the  solitary  walk — the  spirit  bowed  yet  proud — 

the  suffering  and  the  struggle  ? 


POEM  OF  JOYS.  51 

The  agonistic  throes,  the  extasies — joys  of  the  solemn 
musings,  day  or  night? 

Joys  of  the  thought  of  Death — the  great  spheres  Time 
and  Space  ? 

Prophetic  joys  of  better,  loftier  love's  ideals — the  Di 
vine  Wife — the  sweet,  eternal,  perfect  Comrade  ? 

Joys  all  thine  own,  undying  one — joys  worthy  thee,  O 
Soul. 


16 

37  O,  while  I  live,  to  be  the  ruler  of  life — not  a  slave, 
To  meet  life  as  a  powerful  conqueror, 
No  fumes — no  ennui — no  more  complaints,  or  scornful 
criticisms. 


33  O  me  repellent  and  ugly  ! 

To  these  proud  laws  of  the  air,  the  water,  and  the 
ground,  proving  my  interior  Soul  impregnable, 
And  nothing  exterior  shall  ever  take  command  of  me. 

39  O  to  attract  by  more  than  attraction ! 

How  it  is  I  know  not — yet  behold!   the    something 

which  obeys  none  of  the  rest, 
It  is  offensive,  never  defensive — yet  how  magnetic  it 

draws. 

17 

40  O  joy  of  suffering ! 

To  struggle  against  great  odds !  to  meet  enemies  un 
daunted  ! 

To  be  entirely  alone  with  them  !  to  find  how  much  one 
can  stand ! 

To  look  strife,  torture,  prison,  popular  odium,  death, 
face  to  face ! 

To  mount  the  scaffold !  to  advance  to  the  muzzles  of 
guns  with  perfect  nonchalance  ! 

To  be  indeed  a  God ! 


52  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

18 

41  O,  to  sail  to  sea  in  a  ship ! 

To  leave  this  steady,  unendurable  land  ! 

To  leave  the  tiresome  sameness  of  the  streets,  the  side 
walks  and  the  houses ; 

To  leave  you,  O  you  solid  motionless  land,  and  entering 
a  ship, 

To  sail,  and  sail,  and  sail ! 

19 

42  O  to  have  my  life  henceforth  a  poem  of  new  joys ! 
To  dance,  clap  hands,  exult,  shout,  skip,  leap,  roll  on, 

float  on, 

To  be  a  sailor  of  the  world,  bound  for  all  ports, 
A  ship  itself,  (see  indeed  these  sails  I  spread  to  the  sun 

and  air,) 
A  swift  and  swelling  ship,  full  of  rich  words— full  of 

joys. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


To  THINK  OF  TIME. 


1  To  think  of  time — of  all  that  retrospection ! 

To  think  of  to-day,  and  the  ages  continued  hencefor 
ward! 

2  Have  you  guess'd  you  yourself  would  not  continue  ? 
Have  you  dreaded  these  earth-beetles  ? 

Have  you  fear'd  the  future  would  be  nothing  to  you? 


3  Is  to-day  nothing  ?     Is  the  beginningless  past  noth 
ing? 
If  the  future  is  nothing,  they  are  just  as  surely  nothing. 


4  To  think  that  the  sun  rose  in  the  east !  that  men  and 
women  were  flexible,  real,  alive !  that  everything 
was  alive ! 

To  think  that  you  and  I  did  not  see,  feel,  think,  nor 
bear  our  part ! 

To  think  that  we  are  now  here,  and  bear  our  part ! 


5  Not  a  day  passes — not  a  minute  or  second,  without  an 

accouchement ! 

Not  a  day  passes — not  a  minute  or  second,  without  a 
corpse ! 

6  The  dull  nights  go  over,  and  the  dull  days  also, 
The  soreness  of  lying  so  much  in  bed  goes  over, 

The  physician,  after  long  putting  off,  gives  the  silent 
and  terrible  look  for  an  answer, 


54  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  children  come  hurried  and  weeping,  and  the  broth 
ers  and  sisters  are  sent  for, 

Medicines  stand  unused  on  the  shelf — (the  camphor- 
smell  has  long  pervaded  the  rooms,) 

The  faithful  hand  of  the  living  does  not  desert  the  hand 
of  the  dying, 

The  twitching  lips  press  lightly  on  the  forehead  of  the 
dying, 

The  breath  ceases,  and  the  pulse  of  the  heart  ceases, 

The  corpse  stretches  on  the  bed,  and  the  living  look 
upon  it, 

It  is  palpable  as  the  living  are  palpable. 

7  The  living  look  upon  the  corpse  with  their  eye-sight, 
But  without  eye-sight  lingers  a  different  living,  and 
looks  curiously  on  the  corpse. 


8  To  think  the  thought  of  Death,  merged  in  the  thought 

of  materials ! 
To  think  that  the  rivers  will  flow,  and  the  snow  fall, 

and  fruits  ripen,  and  act  upon  others  as  upon  us 

now — yet  not  act  upon  us  ! 
To  think  of  all  these  wonders  of  city  and  country,  and 

others  taking  great  interest  in  them — and  we 

taking  no  interest  in  them  ! 

9  To  think  how  eager  we  are  in  building  our  houses  ! 
To  think  others  shall  be  just  as  eager,  and  we  quite 

indifferent ! 

10  (I  see  one  building  the  house  that  serves  him  a  few 

years,  or  seventy  or  eighty  years  at  most, 
I  see  one  building  the  house  that  serves  him  longer 
than  that.) 

11  Slow-moving  and  black  lines  creep  over  the  whole 

earth — they  never   cease — they  are  the  burial 
lines, 

He  that  was  President  was  buried,  and  he  that  is  now 
President  shall  surely  be  buried. 


To  THINK  OF  TIME.  55 


12  A  reminiscence  of  the  vulgar  fate, 

A  frequent  sample  of  the  life  and  death  of  workmen, 

Each  after  his  kind  : 

Cold  dash  of  waves  at  the  ferry-wharf — posh  and  ice  in 

the  river,  half-frozen  mud  in  the  streets,  a  gray 

discouraged  sky  overhead,  the  short  last  daylight 

of  Twelfth-month, 
A  hearse  and  stages — other  vehicles  give  place — the 

funeral  of   an   old  Broadway  stage-driver,  the 

cortege  mostly  drivers. 

13  Steady  the   trot  to  the   cemetery,  duly  rattles  the 

death-bell,  the  gate  is  pass'd,  the  new-dug  grave 
is  halted  at,  the  living  alight,  the  hearse  uncloses, 
The  coffin  is  pass'd  out,  lower'd  and  settled,  the  whip  is 
laid  on  the  coffin,  the  earth  is  swiftly  shovel'd  in, 
The  mound  above  is  flatted  with  the  spades — silence, 
A  minute — no  one  moves  or  speaks — it  is  done, 
He  is  decently  put  away — is  there  anything  more  ? 

14  He  was  a  good  fellow,  free-mouth'd,  quick-temper'd, 

not  bad-looking,  able  to  take  his  own  part,  witty, 
sensitive  to  a  slight,  ready  with  life  or  death  for 
a  friend,  fond  of  women,  gambled,  ate  hearty, 
drank  hearty,  had  known  what  it  was  to  be  flush, 
grew  low-spirited  toward  the  last,  sicken'd,  was 
help'd  by  a  contribution,  died,  aged  forty-one 
years — and  that  was  his  funeral 

15  Thumb  extended,  finger  uplifted,  apron,  cape,  gloves, 

strap,  wet-weather  clothes,  whip  carefully  chosen, 
boss,  spotter,  starter,  hostler,  somebody  loafing 
on  you,  you  loafing  on  somebody,  headway,  man 
before  and  man  behind,  good  day's  work,  bad 
day's  work,  pet  stock,  mean  stock,  first  out,  last 
out,  turning-in  at  night ; 

To  think  that  these  are  so  much  and  so  nigh  to  other 
drivers — and  he  there  takes  no  interest  in  them ! 


56  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


16  The    markets,    the   government,   the   working-man's 

wages — to  think  what  account  they  are  through 
our  nights  and  days  ! 

To  think  that  other  working-men  will  make  just  as 
great  account  of  them — yet  we  make  little  or  no 
account ! 

17  The  vulgar  and  the  refined — what  you  call  sin,  and 

what  you  call  goodness — to  think  how  wide  a 
difference ! 

To  think  the  difference  will  still  continue  to  others,  yet 
we  lie  beyond  the  difference. 

18  To  think  how  much  pleasure  there  is ! 

Have  you  pleasure  from  looking  at  the  sky  ?  have  you 
pleasure  from  poems  ? 

Do  you  enjoy  yourself  in  the  city?  or  engaged  in  busi 
ness  ?  or  planning  a  nomination  and  election  ? 
or  with  your  wife  and  family  ? 

Or  with  your  mother  and  sisters  ?  or  in  womanly  house 
work  ?  or  the  beautiful  maternal  cares  ? 

— These  also  flow  onward  to  others — you  and  I  flow 
onward, 

But  in  due  time,  you  and  I  shall  take  less  interest  in 
them. 

9  Your  farm,  profits,  crops, — to  think  how  engrossed 

you  are ! 
To  think  there  will  still  be  farms,  profits,  crops — yet  for 

you,  of  what  avail  ? 

6 

20  What  will  be,  will  be  well — for  what  is,  is  well, 
To  take  interest  is  well,  and  not  to  take  interest  shall 
be  well. 

!1  The  sky  continues  beautiful, 

The  pleasure  of  men  with  women  shall  never  be  sated, 

nor  the  pleasure  of  women  with  men,  nor  the 

pleasure  from  poems, 


To  THINK  OF  TIME.  57 

The  domestic  joys,  the  daily  housework  or  business,  the 

building  of  houses — these  are  not  phantasms — 

they  have  weight,  form,  location  ; 
Farms,  profits,  crops,  markets,  wages,  government,  are 

none  of  them  phantasms, 

The  difference  between  sin  and  goodness  is  no  delusion, 
The  earth  is  not  an  echo — man  and  his  life,  and  all  the 

things  of  his  life,  are  well-consider'd. 

2  You  are  not  thrown  to  the  winds — you  gather  cer 
tainly  and  safely  around  yourself  ; 
Yourself !  Yourself  !  Yourself,  forever  and  ever  ! 


23  It  is  not  to  diffuse  you  that  you  were  born  of  your 

mother  and  father — it  is  to  identify  you  ; 
It  is  not  that  you  should  be  undecided,  but  that  you 

should  be  decided  ; 
Something  long  preparing  and  formless  is  arrived  and 

form'd  in  you, 
You  are  henceforth  secure,  whatever  comes  or  goes. 

24  The  threads  that  were  spun  are  gathered,  the  weft 

crosses  the  warp,  the  pattern  is  systematic. 

!S  The  preparations  have  every  one  been  justified, 
The  orchestra  have  sufficiently  tuned  their  instruments 
— the  baton  has  given  the  signal. 

26  The  guest  that  was  coming — he  waited  long,  for  rea 
sons — he  is  now  housed, 

He  is  one  of  those  who  are  beautiful  and  happy — he  is 
one  of  those  that  to  look  upon  and  be  with  is 
enough. 

!7  The  law  of  the  past  cannot  be  eluded, 
The  law  of  the  present  and  future  cannot  be  eluded, 
The  law  of  the  living  cannot  be  eluded — it  is  eternal, 
The  law  of  promotion  and  transformation  cannot  be 
eluded, 


58  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  law  of  heroes  and  good-doers  cannot  be  eluded, 
The  law  of  drunkards,  informers,  mean  persons — not 
one  iota  thereof  can  be  eluded. 

8 

28  Slow  moving  and  black  lines  go  ceaselessly  over  the 

earth, 

Northerner  goes  carried,  and  Southerner  goes  carried, 
and  they  on  the  Atlantic  side,  and  they  on  the 
Pacific,  and  they  between,  and  all  through  the 
Mississippi  country,  and  all  over  the  earth. 

29  The  great  masters  and  kosmos  are  well  as  they  go — 

the  heroes  and  good-doers  are  well, 
The  known  leaders  and  inventors,  and  the  rich  owners 

and  pious  and  distinguished,  may  be  well, 
But  there  is  more  account  than  thai— there  is  strict 

account  of  all. 

30  The  interminable  hordes  of  the  ignorant  and  wicked 

are  not  nothing, 

The  barbarians  of  Africa  and  Asia  are  not  nothing, 
The  common  people  of  Europe  are  not  nothing — the 

American  aborigines  are  not  nothing, 
The  infected  in  the  immigrant  hospital  are  not  nothing 

— the  murderer  or  mean  person  is  not  nothing, 
The  perpetual  successions  of  shallow  people  are  not 

nothing  as  they  go, 
The  lowest  prostitute  is  not  nothing — the  mocker  of 

religion  is  not  nothing  as  he  goes. 


81  Of  and  in  all  these  things, 

I  have  dream'd  that  we  are  not  to  be  changed  so  much, 

nor  the  law  of  us  changed, 
I  have  dream'd  that  heroes  and  good-doers  shall  be 

under  the  present  and  past  law, 
And  that  murderers,  drunkards,  liars,  shall  be  under 

the  present  and  past  law, 
For  I  have  dream'd  that  the  law  they  are  under  now  is 

enough. 


To  THINK  OF  TIME.  59 

32  If  otherwise,  all  came  but  to  ashes  of  dung, 

If  maggots  and  rats  ended  us,  then  Alarum !  for  we  are 

betray'd ! 
Then  indeed  suspicion  of  death. 

33  Do  you  suspect,  death  ?  If  I  were  to  suspect  death,  I 

should  die  now, 

Do  you  think  I  could  walk  pleasantly  and  well-suited 
toward  annihilation  ? 

10 

34  Pleasantly  and  well-suited  I  walk, 

Whither  I  walk  I  cannot  define,  but  I  know  it  is  good, 
The  whole  universe  indicates  that  it  is  good, 
The  past  and  the  present  indicate  that  it  is  good. 

35  How  beautiful  and  perfect  are  the  animals ! 

How  perfect  the  earth,  and  the  minutest  thing  upon  it ! 
What  is  called  good  is  perfect,  and  what  is  called  bad  is 

just  as  perfect, 
The  vegetables  and  minerals  are  all  perfect,  and  the 

imponderable  fluids  are  perfect ; 
Slowly  and  surely  they  have  pass'd  on  to  this,  and 

slowly  and  surely  they  yet  pass  on. 

11 

36  I  swear  I  think  now  that  everything  without  excep 

tion  has  an  eternal  Soul ! 

The  trees  have,  rooted  in  the  ground !  the  weeds  of  the 
sea  have !  the  animals ! 

37  I  swear  I  think  there  is  nothing  but  immortality ! 
That  the  exquisite  scheme  is  for  it,  and  the  nebulous 

float  is  for  it,  and  the  cohering  is  for  it ; 
And  all  preparation  is  for  it !  and  identity  is  for  it !  and 
life  and  materials  are  altogether  for  it ! 


60  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

CHANTING   THE  SQUARE  DEIFIC. 


CHANTING  the  square  deific,  out  of  the  One  advancing, 

out  of  the  sides  ; 
Out  of  the  old  and  new — out  of  the  square  entirely 

divine, 
Solid,  four-sided,    (all  the  sides   needed) . . .  from  this 

side  JEHOVAH  am  I, 
Old  Brahm  I,  and  I  Saturnius  am  ; 
Not  Time  affects  me — I  am  Time,  old,  modern  as  any  ; 
Unpersuadable,   relentless,    executing  righteous  judg 
ments  ; 
As  the  Earth,  the  Father,  the  brown  old  Kronos,  with 

laws, 
Aged  beyond  computation — yet  ever  new — ever  with 

those  mighty  laws  rolling, 
Eelentless,  I  forgive  no  man — whoever  sins,  dies — I  will 

have  that  man's  life  ; 
Therefore  let  none   expect  mercy — Have   the  seasons, 

gravitation,    the    appointed   days,   mercy? — No 

more  have  I  ; 
But  as  the  seasons,   and  gravitation — and  as   all  the 

appointed  days,  that  forgive  not, 
I  dispense  from  this  side  judgments  inexorable,  without 

the  least  remorse. 


Consolator  most  mild,  the  promis'd  one  advancing, 
With  gentle  hand  extended — the  mightier  God  am  I, 
Foretold  by  prophets   and   poets,  in   their  most  rapt 

prophecies  and  poems  ; 
From  this  side,  lo  !  the  Lord  CHEIST  gazes — lo  !  Hermes 

I — lo !  mine  is  Hercules'  face  ; 

All  sorrow,  labor,  suffering,  I,  tallying  it,  absorb  in  my 
self  ; 

Many  times  have  I  been  rejected,  taunted,  put  in  prison, 
and  crucified — and  many  times  shall  be  again  ; 


CHANTING  THE  SQUARE  DEIFIC.  61 

All  the  world  have  I  given  up  for  my  dear  brothers' 
and  sisters'  sake — for  the  soul's  sake  ; 

Wending  my  way  through  the  homes  of  men,  rich  or 
poor,  with  the  kiss  of  affection  ; 

For  I  am  affection — I  am  the  cheer-bringing  God,  with 
hope,  and  all-enclosing  Charity  ; 

(Conqueror  yet — for  before  me  all  the  armies  and  sol 
diers  of  the  earth  shall  yet  bow — and  all  the 
weapons  of  war  become  impotent  :) 

With  indulgent  words,  as  to  children — with  fresh  and 
sane  words,  mine  only  ; 

Young  and  strong  I  pass,  knowing  well  I  am  destin'd 
myself  to  an  early  death  : 

But  my  Charity  has  no  death — my  Wisdom  dies  not, 
neither  early  nor  late, 

And  my  sweet  Love,  bequeath'd  here  and  elsewhere, 
never  dies. 

3 

Aloof,  dissatisfied,  plotting  revolt, 

Comrade  of  criminals,  brother  of  slaves, 

Crafty,  despised,  a  drudge,  ignorant, 

With  sudra  face  and  worn  brow,  black,  but  in  the  depths 

of  my  heart,  proud  as  any  ; 
Lifted,  now  and  always,   against  whoever,    scorning, 

assumes  to  rule  me  ; 
Morose,  full  of  guile,  full  of  reminiscences,  brooding, 

with  many  wiles, 
(Though  it  was  thought  I  was  baffled   and   dispell'd, 

and  my  wiles  done — but  that  will  never  be  ;) 
Defiant,  I,  SATAN,  still  live — still   utter  words — in  new 

lands  duly  appearing,  (and  old  ones  also  ;) 
Permanent  here,  from  my  side,  warlike,  equal  with  any, 

real  as  any, 
Nor  time,  nor  change,  shall  ever  change  me  or  my  words. 


Santa  SPIKITA,  breather,  life, 
Beyond  the  light,  lighter  than  light, 


62  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

Beyond  the  flames  of  hell — joyous,  leaping  easily  above 

hell ; 
Beyond    Paradise — perfumed   solely   with    mine    own 

perfume  ; 
Including  all  life  on  earth — touching,  including  God — 

including  Saviour  and  Satan  ; 
Ethereal,  pervading  all,  (for  without  me,  what  were  all  ? 

what  were  God?) 
Essence  of  forms — life  of  the  real  identities,  permanent, 

positive,  (namely  the  unseen,) 
Life  of  the  great  round  world,  the  sun  and  stars,  and  of 

man — I,  the  general  Soul, 

Here  the  square  finishing,  the  solid,  I  the  most  solid, 
Breathe  my  breath  also  through  these  songs. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 

WHISPERS 

OF 

HEAVENLY  DEATH. 

WHISPERS  OF  HEAVENLY  DEATH. 

1  WHISPERS  of  heavenly  death,  murmur'd  I  hear  ; 
Labial  gossip  of  night  —  sibilant  chorals  ; 

Footsteps  gently  ascending  —  mystical  breezes,  wafted 

soft  and  low  ; 
Ripples  of  unseen  rivers  —  tides  of  a  current,  flowing, 

forever  flowing  ; 
(Or  is  it  the  plashing  of  tears  ?  the  measureless  waters 

of  human  tears  ?) 

2  I  see,  just  see,  skyward,  great  cloud-masses  ; 
Mournfully,  slowly  they  roll,  silently  swelling  and  mix 

ing  ; 

With,  at  times,  a  half-dimm'd,  sadden'd,  far-off  star, 
Appearing  and  disappearing. 


3  (Some    parturition,  rather  —  some  solemn,  immortal 

birth  : 

On  the  frontiers,  to  eyes  impenetrable, 
Some  Soul  is  passing  over.) 


64  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

BAREST  THOU  NOW,  O  SOUL. 

i 

DAREST  thou  now,  O  Soul, 

Walk  out  with  me  toward  the  Unknown  Region, 
Where  neither  ground  is  for  the  feet,  nor  any  path  to 

follow  ? 

2 

No  map,  there,  nor  guide, 

Nor  voice  sounding,  nor  touch  of  human  hand, 
Nor  face  with  blooming  flesh,  nor  lips,  nor  eyes,  are  in 

that  land. 


I  know  it  not,  O  Soul ; 
Nor  dost  thou — all  is  a  blank  before  us  ; 
All  waits,  undream'd  of,  in  that  region — that  inaccessi 
ble  land. 


Till,  when  the  ties  loosen, 
All  but  the  ties  eternal,  Time  and  Space, 
Nor  darkness,  gravitation,  sense,  nor  any  bounds,  bound 
us. 

5 

Then  we  burst  forth — we  float, 
In  Time  and  Space,  O  Soul — prepared  for  them  ; 
Equal,  equipt  at  last — (O  joy !  O  fruit  of  all !)  them  to 
fulfil,  O  Soul. 


OF  HIM  I  LOVE  DAY  AND  NIGHT. 

OF  him  I  love  day  and  night,  I  dream'd  I  heard  he  was 
dead; 

And  I  dream'd  I  went  where  they  had  buried  him  I 
love — but  he  was  not  in  that  place  ; 

And  I  dream'd  I  wander'd,  searching  among  burial- 
places,  to  find  him  ; 


WHISPERS  OF  HEAVENLY  DEATH.  65 

And  I  found  that  every  place  was  a  burial  place  ; 

The  houses  full  of  life  were  equally  full  of  death,  (this 

house  is  now ;) 
The  streets,  the  shipping,  the  places  of  amusement,  the 

Chicago,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  the  Mannahatta, 

were  as  full  of  the  dead  as  of  the  living, 
And  fuller,  O  vastly  fuller,  of  the  dead  than  of  the 

living ; 
— And  what  I  dream'd  I  will  henceforth  tell  to  every 

person  and  age, 

And  I  stand  henceforth  bound  to  what  I  dream'd  ; 
And  now  I  am  willing  to  disregard  burial-places,  and 

dispense  with  them  ; 

And  if  the  memorials  of  the  dead  were  put  up  indiffer 
ently  everywhere,  even  in  the  room  where  I  eat 

or  sleep,  I  should  be  satisfied  ; 
And  if  the  corpse  of  any  one  I  love,  or  if  my  own  corpse, 

be  duly  render'd  to  powder,  and  pour'd  in  the 

sea,  I  shall  be  satisfied  ; 
Or  if  it  be  distributed  to  the  winds,  I  shall  be  satisfied. 


ASSURANCES. 

I  NEED  no  assurances — I  am  a  man  who  is  preoccupied, 
of  his  own  Soul ; 

I  do  not  doubt  that  from  under  the  feet,  and  beside  the 
hands  and  face  I  am  cognizant  of,  are  now  look 
ing  faces  I  am  not  cognizant  of — calm  and  actual 
faces  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  but  the  majesty  and  beauty  of  the  world 
are  latent  in  any  iota  of  the  world  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  I  am  limitless,  and  that  the  universes 
are  limitless — in  vain  I  try  to  think  how  limitless  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  that  the  orbs,  and  the  systems  of  orbs, 
play  their  swift  sports  through  the  air  on  pur 
pose — and  that  I  shall  one  day  be  eligible  to  do 
as  much  as  they,  and  more  than  they  ; 


66  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  temporary  affairs  keep  on  and  on, 
millions  of  years  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  interiors  have  their  interiors,  and  exte 
riors  have  their  exteriors — and  that  the  eye-sight 
has  another  eye-sight,  and  the  hearing  another 
hearing,  and  the  voice  another  voice  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  that  the  passionately- wept  deaths  of 
young  men  are  provided  for — and  that  the  deaths 
of  young  women,  and  the  deaths  of  little  children, 
are  provided  for  ; 

(Did  you  think  Life  was  so  well  provided  for — and 
Death,  the  purport  of  all  Life,  is  not  well  pro 
vided  for  ?) 

I  do  not  doubt  that  wrecks  at  sea,  no  matter  what  the 
horrors  of  them — no  matter  whose  wife,  child, 
husband,  father,  lover,  has  gone  down,  are  pro 
vided  for,  to  the  minutest  points  ; 

I  do  not  doubt  that  whatever  can  possibly  happen,  any 
where,  at  any  time,  is  provided  for,  in  the  inher 
ences  of  things ; 

I  do  not  think  Life  provides  for  all,  and  for  Time  and 
Space — but  I  believe  Heavenly  Death  provides 
for  all. 


YET,  YET,  YE  DOWNCAST  HOURS. 


YET,  yet,  ye  downcast  hours,  I  know  ye  also  ; 
Weights  of  lead,  how  ye  clog  and  cling  at  my  ankles ! 
Earth  to  a  chamber  of  mourning  turns — I  hear  the 

o'erweening,  mocking  voice, 
Matter  is  conqueror — matter,  triumphant  only,  continues 

onward. 


Despairing  cries  float  ceaselessly  toward  me, 
The  call  of  my  nearest  lover,  putting  forth,  alarm'd, 
uncertain, 


WHISPERS  OF  HEAVENLY  DEATH.  67 

The  Sea  I  am  quickly  to  sail,  come  tell  me, 

Come  tell  me  where  I  am  speeding — tell  me  my  destination. 

3 

I  understand  your  anguish,  but  I  cannot  help  you, 

I  approach,  hear>  behold — the  sad  mouth,  the  look  out 

of  the  eyes,  your  mute  inquiry, 
Whither  I  go  from  the  bed  I  recline  on,  come  tell  me : 
Old  age,  alarm'd,  uncertain — A  young  woman's  voice, 

appealing  to  me  for  comfort ; 
A  young  man's  voice,  Shall  I  not  escape  ? 


QUICKSAND   YEARS. 

QUICKSAND  years  that  whirl  me  I  know  not  whither, 

Your  schemes,  politics,  fail — lines  give  way — substances 
mock  and  elude  me  ; 

Only  the  theme  I  sing,  the  great  and  strong-possess'd 
Soul,  eludes  not ; 

One's-self  must  never  give  way — that  is  the  final  sub 
stance — that  out  of  all  is  sure  ; 

Out  of  politics,  triumphs,  battles,  life — what  at  last 
finally  remains  ? 

When  shows  break  up,  what  but  One's-Self  is  sure  ? 


THAT  MUSIC  ALWAYS  ROUND  ME. 

THAT  music  always  round  me,  unceasing,  unbeginning 
— yet  long  untaught  I  did  not  hear  ; 

But  now  the  chorus  I  hear,  and  am  elated  ; 

A  tenor,  strong,  ascending,  with  power  and  health,  with 
glad  notes  of  day-break  I  hear, 

A  soprano,  at  intervals,  sailing  buoyantly  over  the  tops 
of  immense  waves, 


68  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

A  transparent  base,  shuddering  lusciously  under  and 

through  the  universe, 
The  triumphant  tutti — the  funeral  waitings,  with  sweet 

flutes  and  violins — all  these  I  fill  myself  with  ; 
I  hear  not  the  volumes  of  sound  merely — I  am  moved 

by  the  exquisite  meanings, 
I  listen  to  the  different  voices  winding  in  and  out, 

striving,   contending  with   fiery  vehemence  to 

excel  each  other  in  emotion  ; 
I  do  not  think  the  performers  know  themselves — but 

now  I  think  I  begin  to  know  them. 


AS  IF  A  PHANTOM  CARESS'D  ME. 

As  if  a  phantom  caress'd  me, 

I  thought  I  was  not  alone,  walking  here  by  the  shore  ; 

But  the  one  I  thought  was  with  me,  as  now  I  walk  by 

the  shore — the  one  I  loved,  that  caress'd  me, 
As  I  lean  and  look  through  the  glimmering  light — that 

one  has  utterly  disappear'd, 
And  those  appear  that  are  hateful  to  me,  and  mock  me. 


HERE,  SAILOR! 

WHAT  ship,  puzzled  at  sea,  cons  for  the  true  reckon 
ing? 

Or,  coming  in,  to  avoid  the  bars,  and  follow  the  chan 
nel,  a  perfect  pilot  needs  ? 

Here,  sailor !  Here,  ship  !  take  aboard  the  most  perfect 
pilot, 

Whom,  in  a  little  boat,  putting  off,  and  rowing,  I, 
hailing  you,  offer. 


WHISPERS  OF  HEAVENLY  DEATH.  69 

A  NOISELESS,  PATIENT  SPIDER. 

1  A  NOISELESS  patient  spider, 

I  mark'd,   where,    on   a  little    promontory,   it  stood, 

isolated  ; 

Mark'd  how,  to  explore  the  vacant,  vast  surrounding, 
It  launch'd  iorth  filament,   filament,    filament,    out  of 

itself  ; 
Ever  unreeling  them — ever  tirelessly  speeding  them. 

9  And  you,  O  my  Soul,  where  you  stand, 

Surrounded,   surrounded,    in    measureless    oceans   of 

space, 
Ceaselessly  musing,  venturing,  throwing, — seeking  the 

spheres,  to  connect  them  ; 
Till  the  bridge  you  will  need,  be  form'd — till  the  ductile 

anchor  hold  ; 
Till  the  gossamer  thread  you  fling,  catch  somewhere, 

O  my  Soul. 


THE   LAST  INVOCATION. 

i 

AT  the  last,  tenderly, 

From  the  walls  of  the  powerful,  fortress'd  house, 
From  the  clasp  of  the  knitted  locks — from  the  keep  of 

the  well-closed  doors, 
Let  me  be  wafted. 


Let  me  glide  noiselessly  forth  ; 

With  the  key   of  softness  unlock  the  locks — with   a 

whisper, 
Set  ope  the  doors,  O  Soul ! 


Tenderly  !  be  not  impatient ! 
(Strong  is  your  hold,  O  mortal  flesh  ! 
Strong  is  your  hold,  O  love.) 


70  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


AS   I  WATCH'D   THE   PLOUGHMAN   PLOUGH 
ING. 

As  I  watch'd  the  ploughman  ploughing, 

Or  the  sower  sowing  in  the  fields — or  the  harvester 
harvesting, 

I  saw  there  too,  O  life  and  death,  your  analogies  : 

(Life,  life  is  the  tillage,  and  Death  is  the  harvest  accord 
ing-) 


PENSIVE  AND  FALTERING. 

PENSIVE  and  faltering, 

The  words,  the  dead,  I  write  ; 

For  living  are  the  Dead  ; 

(Haply  the  only  living,  only  real, 

And  I  the  apparition — I  the  spectre.) 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES. 


OUT    OF   THE  -CRADLE    ENDLESSLY 
ROCKING. 


1  OUT  of  the  cradle  endlessly  rocking, 
Out  of  the  mocking-bird's  throat,  the  musical  shuttle, 
Out  of  the  Ninth-month  midnight, 
Over  the  sterile  sands,  and  the  fields  beyond,  where  the 
child,   leaving  his  bed,  wander'd  alone,   bare 
headed,  barefoot, 
Down  from  the  shower'd  halo, 

Up  from  the  mystic  play  of  shadows,  twining  and  twist 
ing  as  if  they  were  alive, 

Out  from  the  patches  of  briers  and  blackberries, 
From  the  memories  of  the  bird  that  chanted  to  me, 
From  your   memories,   sad    brother — from    the   fitful 

risings  and  fallings  I  heard, 
From  under    that    yellow  half-moon,  late-risen,   and 

swollen  as  if  with  tears, 
From  those  beginning  notes  of  sickness  and  love,  there 

in  the  transparent  mist, 
From  the  thousand  responses  of  my  heart,  never  to 

cease, 

From  the  myriad  thence-arous'd  words, 
From  the  word  stronger  and  more  delicious  than  any, 
From  such,  as  now  they  start,  the  scene  revisiting, 
As  a  flock,  twittering,  rising,  or  overhead  passing, 
Borne  hither — ere  all  eludes  me,  hurriedly, 
A  man — yet  by  these  tears  a  little  boy  again, 


72  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

Throwing  myself  on  the  sand,  confronting  the  waves, 
I,  chanter  of  pains  and  joys,  uniter  of  here  and  hereafter, 
Taking    all    hints  to   use   them — but   swiftly  leaping 

beyond  them, 
A  reminiscence  sing. 

2 

2  Once,  Paumanok, 

When  the  snows  had  melted — when  the  lilac-scent  was 

in    the    air,   and    the    Fifth-month    grass  was 

growing, 

Up  this  sea-shore,  in  some  briers, 
Two  guests  from  Alabama — two  together, 
And  their  nest,  and  four  light-green  eggs,  spotted  with 

brown, 

And  every  day  the  he-bird,  to  and  fro,  near  at  hand, 
And  every  day  the  she-bird,  crouch'd  on  her  nest,  silent, 

with  bright  eyes, 
And  every  day  I,  a  curious  boy,  never  too  close,  never 

disturbing  them, 
Cautiously  peering,  absorbing,  translating. 

3 

3  Shine!  shine!  shine! 

Pour  down  your  warmth,  great  Sun  ! 
While  we  bask — we  two  together. 

4  Two  together  ! 

Winds  blow  South,  or  winds  blovj  North, 
Day  come  white,  or  night  come  black, 
Home,  or  rivers  and  mountains  from  home, 
Singing  all  time,  minding  no  time, 
While  we  two  keep  together. 

4 

6  Till  of  a  sudden, 

May-be  kill'd,  unknown  to  her  mate, 

One  forenoon  the  she-bird  crouch'd  not  on  the  nest, 

Nor  return'd  that  afternoon,  nor  the  next, 

Nor  ever  appear'd  again. 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  73 

6  And  thenceforward,  all  summer,  in  the  sound  of  the 
sea. 

And  at  night,  under  the  full  of  the  moon,  in  calmer 
weather, 

Over  the  hoarse  surging  of  the  sea, 

Or  Hitting  from  brier  to  brier  by  day, 

I  saw,  I  heard  at  intervals,  the  remaining  one,  the  he- 
bird, 

The  solitary  guest  from  Alabama. 


7  Blow!  Now!  blow! 

Blow  up,  sea-winds,  along  Paumanok's  shore./ 

I  wait  and  I  wait,  till  you  blow  my  mate  to  me. 

6 

8  Yes,  when  the  stars  glisten'd, 

All  night  long,  on  the  prong  of  a  moss-scallop'd  stake, 

Down,  almost  amid  the  slapping  waves, 

S-it  the  lone  singer,  wonderful,  causing  tears. 

9  He  calTd  on  his  mate  ; 

He  pour'd  forth  the  meanings  which  I,  of  all  men,  know. 

lu  Yes,  my  brother,  I  know  ; 

The  rest  might  not — but  I  have  treasur'd  every  note  ; 

For  once,  and  more  than  once,  dimly,  down  to  the 

beach  gliding, 
Silent,  avoiding  the  moonbeams,  blending  myself  with 

the  shadows, 
Kecalling  now   the    obscure  shapes,   the   echoes,   the 

sounds  and  sights  after  their  sorts, 
The  white  arms  out  in  the  breakers  tirelessly  tossing, 
I,  with  bare  feet,  a  child,  the  wind  wafting  my  hair, 
Listen'd  long  and  long. 

II  Listen'd,  to  keep,  to  sing— now  translating  the  notes, 
Following  you,  my  brother. 

4 


74  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.' 

7 

12  Soothe!  soothe!  soothe! 

Close  on  its  wave  soothes  the  wave  behind, 

And  again  another  behind,  embracing  and  lapping,  every 

one  close, 
But  my  love  soothes  not  me,  not  me. 

13  Low  hangs  the  moon^ — it  rose  late  ; 

0  it  is  lagging — 0  I  think  it  is  heavy  with  love,  with  love. 

14  0  madly  the  sea  pushes,  pushes  upon  the  land, 
With  love — with  love. 

15  0  night !  do  I  not  see  my  love  fluttering  out  there  among 

the  breakers  f 
What  is  that  little  black  thing  I  see  there  in  the  while  ? 

16  Loud!  loud!  loud! 
Loud  1  call  to  you,  my  love  I 

High  and  clear  1  shoot  my  voice  over  the  waves  ; 
Surely  you  must  know  who  is  here,  is  here  ; 
You  must  know  who  I  am,  my  love. 

17  Low-hanging  moon  ! 

What  is  that  dusky  spot  in  your  brown  yellow  f 

0  it  is  the  shape,  the  shape  of  my  mate  ! 

0  moon,  do  not  keep  her  from  me  any  longer. 

18  Land!  land!  Oland! 

Whichever  way  I  turn,  0  I  think  you  could  give  me  my 

mate  back  again,  if  you  only  ivould  ; 
For  I  am  almost  sure  I  see  her  dimly  whichever  way  I  look. 

19  0  rising  stars  ! 

Perhaps  the  one  I  want  so  much  will  rise,  will  rise  with 
some  of  you. 

80  0  throat  !  0  trembling  throat ! 

Sound  clearer  through  the  atmosphere  ! 

Pierce  the  woods,  the  earth  ; 

Somewhere  listening  to  catch  you,  must  be  the  one  I  want. 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  75 

21  Shake  out,  carols  ! 

Solitary  here — the  night's  carols  ! 

Carols  of  lonesome  love  !  Death's  carols  ! 

Carols  under  that  lagging,  yellow,  waning  moon  ! 

0,  under  that  moon,  where  she  droops  almost  down  into  the 

sea! 
0  reckless,  despairing  carols. 

22  But  soft!  sink  low; 
Soft  I  let  me  just  murmur  ; 

And  do  you  wait  a  moment,  you  husky-noised  sea  ; 

For  somewhere  I  believe  I  heard  my  mate  responding  to 
me, 

So  faint — I  must  be  still,  be  still  to  listen  ; 

But  not  altogether  still,  for  then  she  might  not  come  imme 
diately  to  me. 

23  Hither,  my  love  ! 
Here  I  am  !  Here  ! 

With  this  just-sustain 'd  note  I  announce  myself  to  you  ; 
Tliis  gentle  call  is  for  you,  my  love,  for  you. 

!4  Do  not  be  decoy' d  elsewhere  ! 
That  is  the  whistle  of  the  wind — it  is  not  my  voice  ; 
That  is  the  fluttering,  the  fluttering  of  the  spray  ; 
Tfiose  are  the  shadows  of  leaves. 

25  0  darkness  !  0  in  vain  ! 

0  I  am  very  sick  and  sorrowful. 

6  0  brown  halo  in  the  sky,  near  the  moon,  drooping  upon 

the  sea  I 

0  troubled  reflection  in  the  sea  ! 
0  throat  I  0  throbbing  heart ! 
0  all — and  I  singing  uselessly,  uselessly  all  the  night. 

27  Yet  I  murmur,  murmur  on  ! 

0  murmurs — you  yourselves  make  me  continue  to  sing,  I 
know  not  ivhy. 


76  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

28  Opast!  Olife!  0  songs  of  joy  ! 
In  the  air — in  the  woods — over  fields; 
Loved  !  loved  !  loved  !  loved  !  loved  ! 
But  my  love  no  more,  no  more  with  me  ! 
We  two  together  no  more. 

8 

29  The  aria  sinking  ; 

All  else  continuing — the  stars  shining, 

The  winds  blowing — the  notes  of  the  bird  continuous 
echoing, 

With  angry  moans  the  fierce  old  mother  incessantly 
moaning, 

On  the  sands  of  Paumanok's  shore,  gray  and  rustling ; 

The  yellow  half-moon  enlarged,  sagging  down,  droop 
ing,  the  face  of  the  sea  almost  touching  ; 

The  boy  extatic — with  his  bare  feet  the  waves,  with  his 
hair  the  atmosphere  dallying, 

The  love  in  the  heart  long  pent,  now  loose,  now  at  last 
tumultuously  bursting, 

The  aria's  meaning,  the  ears,  the  Soul,  swiftly  deposit 
ing, 

The  strange  tears  down  the  cheeks  coursing, 

The  colloquy  there — the  trio — each  uttering, 

The  undertone  —  the  savage  old  mother,  incessantly 
crying, 

To  the  boy's  Soul's  questions  sullenly  timing — some 
drown'd  secret  hissing, 

To  the  outsetting  bard  of  love. 

9 

3n  Demon  or  bird !   (said  the  boy's  soul,) 

Is  it  indeed  toward  your  mate  you  sing?  or  is  it  mostly 

tome? 

For  I,  that  was  a  child,  my  tongue's  use  sleeping, 
Now  I  have  heard  you, 

Now  in  a  moment  I  know  what  I  am  for — I  awake, 
And  already  a  thousand  singers — a  thousand  songs, 

clearer,  louder  and  more  sorrowful  than  yours, 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  77 

A  thousand  warbling  echoes  have  started  to  life  within 

me, 
Never  to  die. 

31  O  you  singer,  solitary,  singing  by  yourself — project 

ing  ine  ; 

0  solitary  me,  listening — never  more  shall  I  cease  per 
petuating  you ; 

Never  more  shall  I  escape,  never  more  the  reverbera 
tions, 

Never  more  the  cries  of  unsatisfied  love  be  absent  from 
me, 

Never  again  leave  me  to  be  the  peaceful  child  I  was 
before  what  there,  in  the  night, 

By  the  sea,  under  the  yellow  and  sagging  moon, 

The  messenger  there  arous'd — the  fire,  the  sweet  hell 
within, 

The  unknown  want,  the  destiny  of  me. 

32  0  give  me  the  clew !  (it  lurks  in  the  night  here  some 

where  ;) 

O  if  I  am  to  have  so  much,  let  me  have  more  ! 

O  a  word !  O  what  is  my  destination  ?  (I  fear  it  is  hence 
forth  chaos  ;) 

O  how  joys,  dreads,  convolutions,  human  shapes,  and  all 
shapes,  spring  as  from  graves  around  me  ! 

O  phantoms  !  you  cover  all  the  land  and  all  the  sea  ! 

O  I  cannot  see  in  the  dimness  whether  you  smile  or 
frown  upon  me  ; 

O  vapor,  a  look,  a  word !  O  well-beloved ! 

O  you  dear  women's  and  men's  phantoms ! 

33  A  word  then,  (for  I  will  conquer  it,) 
The  word  final,  superior  to  all, 
Subtle,  sent  up — what  is  it  ? — I  listen  ; 

Are  you  whispering  it,  and  have  been  all  the  time,  you 

sea-waves  ? 
Is  that  it  from  your  liquid  rims  and  wet  sands  ? 


78  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


10 

*  Whereto  answering,  the  sea,  * 

Delaying  not,  hurrying  not, 

Whisper'd  me  through  the  night,  and  very  plainly  be 
fore  daybreak, 

Lisp'd  to  ine  the  low  and  delicious  word  DEATH  ; 

And  again  Death — ever  Death,  Death,  Death, 

Hissing  melodious,  neither  like  the  bird,  nor  like  my 
arous'd  child's  heart, 

But  edging  near,  as  privately  for  me,  rustling  at  my 
feet, 

Creeping  thence  steadily  up  to  my  ears,  and  laving  me 
softly  all  over, 

Death,  Death,  Death,  Death,  Death. 

35  Which  I  do  not  forget, 

But  fuse  the  song  of  my  dusky  demon  and  brother,  . 

That  he  sang  to  me  in  the  moonlight  on  Paumanok's 

gray  beach, 

With  the  thousand  responsive  songs,  at  random, 
My  own  songs,  awaked  from  that  hour  ; 
And  with  them  the  key,  the  word  up  from  the  waves, 
The  word  of  the  sweetest  song,  and  all  songs. 
That  strong  and  delicious  word  which,  creeping  to  my 

feet, 
The  sea  whisper'd  me. 


ELEMENTAL   DRIFTS. 

1 

1  ELEMENTAL  drifts ! 

How  I  wish  I  could  impress  others  as  you  have  just 
been  impressing  me ! 

2  As  I  ebb'd  with  an  ebb  of  the  ocean  of  life, 
As  I  wended  the  shores  I  know, 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  79 

As  I  walk'd  where  the  ripples  continually  wash  you, 
Paumanok, 

Where  they  rustle  up,  hoarse  and  sibilant, 

Where  the  fierce  old  mother  endlessly  cries  for  her 
castaways, 

I,  musing,  late  in  the  autumn  day,  gazing  off  south 
ward, 

Alone,  held  by  this  eternal  Self  of  me,  out  of  the  pride 
of  which  I  utter  my  poems, 

Was  seiz'd  by  the  spirit  that  trails  in  the  lines  under 
foot, 

In  the  rim,  the  sediment,  that  stands  for  all  the  water 
and  all  the  land  of  the  globe. 

2  Fascinated,  my  eyes,  reverting  from  the  south,  dropt, 
to  follow  those  slender  winrows, 

Chaff,  straw,  splinters  of  wood,  weeds,  and  the  sea- 
gluten, 

Scum,  scales  from  shining  rocks,  leaves  of  salt-lettuce, 
left  by  the  tide  : 

Miles  walking,  the  sound  of  breaking  waves  the  other 
side  of  me, 

Paumanok,  there  and  then,  as  I  thought  the  old 
thought  of  likenesses, 

These  you  presented  to  me,  you  fish-shaped  island, 

As  I  wended  the  shores  I  know, 

As  I  walk'd  with  that  eternal  Self  of  me,  seeking  types. 

2 

4  As  I  wend  to  the  shores  I  know  not, 

As  I  list  to  the  dirge,  the  voices  of  men  and  women 

wreck'd, 
As  I  inhale  the  impalpable  breezes  that  set  in  upon 

me, 
Vs  the  ocean  so  mysterious  rolls  toward  me  closer  and 

closer, 
too,  but   signify,  at  the  utmost,  a  little  wash'd-up 

drift, 

A  few  sands  and  dead  leaves  to  gather, 
Gather,  and  merge  myself  as  part  of  the  sands  and 

drift. 


80  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

5  O  baffled,  balk'd,  bent  to  the  very  earth, 
Oppressed  with  myself  that  I  have  dared  to  open  my 

mouth, 
Aware  now,  that,  amid  all  that  blab  whose  echoes  recoil 

upon  me,  I   have  not  once  had  the  least   idea 

who  or  what  I  am, 
But  that   before  all  my  insolent  poems  the   real  ME 

stands    yet    untouch'd,   untold,   altogether  un- 

reach'd, 
Withdrawn  far,  mocking  me  with  mock-congratulatory 

signs  and  bows, 
With  peals  of  distant  ironical  laughter  at  every  word  I 

have  written, 
Pointing  in  silence  to  these  songs,  and  then  to  the  sand 

beneath. 

6  Now  I  perceive  I  have  not  understood  anything — not 

a  single  object — and  that  no  man  ever  can. 

7  I  perceive  Nature,  here  in  sight  of  the  sea,  is  taking 

advantage  of  me,  to  dart  upon  me,  and  sfcing  me, 
Because  I  have  dared  to  open  my  mouth  to  sing  at  all. 


8  You  oceans  both !  I  close  with  you  ; 

We  murmur  alike  reproachfully,  rolling  our  sands  and 

drift,  knowing  not  why, 
These  little  shreds  indeed,  standing  for  you  and  me 

and  all. 

9  You  friable  shore,  with  trails  of  debris ! 

You  fish-shaped  island !   I  take  what  is  underfoot ; 
What  is  yours  is  mine,  my  father. 

10  I  too  Paumanok, 

I  too  have  bubbled  up,  floated  the  measureless  float, 

and  been  wash'd  on  your  shores  ; 
I  too  am  but  a  trail  of  drift  and  debris, 
I  too  leave  little  wrecks  upon  you,  you  fish-shaped 

island. 


SEA-SHOKE  MEMORIES.  81 

11  I  throw  myself  upon  your  breast,  my  father, 
I  cling  to  you  so  that  you  cannot  unloose  me, 

I  hold  you  so  firm,  till  you  answer  me  something. 

12  Kiss  me,  my  father, 

Touch  me  with  your  lips,  as  I  touch  those  I  love, 
Breathe  to  me,  while  I  hold  you  close,  the  secret  of  the 
murmuring  I  envy. 


13  Ebb,  ocean  of  life,  (the  flow  will  return,) 
Cease  not  your  moaning,  you  fierce  old  mother, 
Endlessly  cry  for  your  castaways — but  fear  not,  deny 

not  me, 

Hustle  not  up  so  hoarse  and  angry  against  my  feet,  as  I 
touch  you,  or  gather  from  you. 

14  I  mean  tenderly  by  you  and  all, 

I  gather  for  myself,  and  for  this  phantom,  looking  down 
where  we  lead,  and  following  me  and  mine. 

15  Me  and  mine ! 

We,  loose  winrows,  little  corpses, 

Froth,  snowy  white,  and  bubbles, 

(See !  from  my  dead  lips  the  ooze  exuding  at  last ! 

See — the  prismatic  colors,  glistening  and  rolling!) 

Tufts  of  straw,  sands,  fragments, 

Buoy'd  hither  from  many  moods,  one  contradicting 
another, 

From  the  storm,  the  long  calm,  the  darkness,  the  swell; 

Musing,  pondering,  a  breath,  a  briny  tear,  a  dab  of 
liquid  or  soil  ; 

Up  just  as  much  out  of  fathomless  workings  fermented 
and  thrown  ; 

A  limp  blossom  or  two,  tornr  just  as  much  over  waves 
floating,  drifted  at  random  ; 

Just  as  much  for  us  that  sobbing  dirge  of  Nature  ;  ' 

Just  as  much,  whence  we  come,  that  blare  of  the  cloud- 
trumpets  ; 


82  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

We,  capricious,  brought  hither,  we  know  not  whence, 

spread  out  before  you, 
You,  up  there,  walking  or  sitting, 
Whoever  you  are — we  too  lie  in  drifts  at  your  feet. 


TEARS. 

TEARS  !  tears  !  tears  ! 

In  the  night,  in  solitude,  tears  : 

On  the  white  shore  dripping,  dripping,  suck'd  in  by  the 

sand ; 

Tears — not  a  star  shining — all  dark  and  desolate  ; 
Moist  tears  from  the  eyes  of  a  muffled  head  : 
— O  who  is  that  ghost  ? — that  form  in  the  dark,  with 

tears  ? 
What  shapeless  lump  is  that,  bent,  crouch'd  there  on 

the  sand  ? 
Streaming  tears — sobbing  tears — throes,  choked  with 

wild  cries  ; 
O  storm,  embodied,  rising,  careering,  with  swift  steps 

along  the  beach  ; 
O  wild  and  dismal  night  storm,  with  wind !   O  belching 

and  desperate ! 
O  shade,  so  sedate  and  decorous  by  day,  with  calm 

countenance  and  regulated  pace  ; 
But  away,  at  night,  as  you  fly,  none  looking — O  then 

the  unloosen'd  ocean, 
Of  tears !  tears !  tears ! 


ABOARD,  AT  A  SHIP'S  HELM. 

1  ABOARD,  at  a  ship's  helm, 

A  young  steersman,  steering  with  care. 

2  A  bell  through  fog  on  a  sea-coast  dolefully  ringing, 
An  ocean-bell — O  a  warning  bell,  rock'd  by  the  waves. 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  83 

3  O  you  give  good  notice  indeed,  you  bell  by  the  sea- 

reefs  ringing, 
Ringing,  ringing,  to  warn  the  ship  from  its  wreck-place. 

4  For,  as  on  the  alert,  O  steersman,  you  mind  the  bell's 

admonition, 
The  bows   turn, — the  freighted  ship,  tacking,  speeds 

away  under  her  gray  sails, 
The  beautiful  and  noble  ship,  with  all  her  precious 

wealth,  speeds  away  gaily  and  safe. 

6  But  O  the  ship,  the  immortal  ship !  O  ship  aboard  the 
ship! 

O  ship  of  the  body — ship  of  the  soul — voyaging,  voyag 
ing,  voyaging. 


ON  THE  BEACH,  AT  NIGHT. 

1 

1  ON  the  beach,  at  night, 
Stands  a  child,  with  her  father, 
Watching  the  east,  the  autumn  sky. 

2  Up  through  the  darkness, 

While  ravening  clouds,   the   burial  clouds,  in  black 

masses  spreading, 

Lower,  sullen  and  fast,  athwart  and  down  the  sky, 
Amid  a  transparent  clear  belt  of  ether  yet  left  in  the 

east, 

Ascends,  large  and  calm,  the  lord-star  Jupiter  ; 
And  nigh  at  hand,  only  a  very  little  above, 
Swim  the  delicate  brothers,  the  Pleiades. 

2 

3  From  the  beach,  the  child,  holding  the  hand  of  her 

father, 

Those  burial-clouds  that  lower,  victorious,  soon  to  de 
vour  all, 

Watching,  silently  weeps. 


84  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

4  Weep  not,  child, 

Weep  not,  ray  darling, 

With  these  kisses  let  me  remove  your  tears ; 

The  ravening  clouds  shall  not  long  be  victorious, 

They  shall  not  long  possess  the  sky — shall  devour  the 

stars  only  in  apparition  : 
Jupiter  shall  emerge — be  patient — watch  again  another 

night — the  Pleiades  shall  emerge, 
They  are  immortal — all  those  stars,  both  silvery  and 

golden,  shall  shine  out  again, 
The  great  stars  and  the  little  ones  shall  shine  out  again 

— they  endure  ; 
The  vast  immortal  suns,  and  the  long-enduring  pensive 

moons,  shall  again  shine. 


5  Then,  dearest  child,  mournest  thou  only  for  Jupiter? 
Considerest  thou  alone  the  burial  of  the  stars  ? 

6  Something  there  is, 

(With  my  lips  soothing  thee,  adding,  I  whisper, 

I  give  thee  the  first  suggestion,  the  problem  and  indi 
rection,) 

Something  there  is  more  immortal  even  than  the  stars, 

(Many  the  burials,  many  the  days  and  nights,  passing 
away,) 

Something  that  shall  endure  longer  even  than  lustrous 
Jupiter, 

Longer  than  sun,  or  any  revolving  satellite, 

Or  the  radiant  brothers,  the  Pleiades. 


THE  WORLD  BELOW  THE  BRINE. 

THE  world  below  the  brine  ; 

Forests  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea — the  branches  and 

leaves, 
Sea-lettuce,  vast  lichens,  strange  flowers  and  seeds — 

the  thick  tangle,  the  openings,  and  the  pink  turf, 


SEA-SHORE  MEMORIES.  85 

Different  colors,  pale  gray  and  green,  purple,  white, 

and  gold — the  play  of  light  through  the  water, 
Dumb  swimmers  there  among  the  rocks — coral,  gluten, 

grass,  rushes — and  the  aliment  of  the  swimmers, 
Sluggish  existences  grazing  there,  suspended,  or  slowly 

crawling  close  to  the  bottom, 
The  sperm-whale  at  the  surface,  blowing  air  and  spray, 

or  disporting  with  his  flukes, 
The  leaden-eyed  shark,  the  walrus,  the  turtle,  the  hairy 

sea-leopard,  and  the  sting-ray  ; 
Passions  there — wars,  pursuits,  tribes — sight  in  those 

ocean-depths — breathing    that    thick-breathing 

air,  as  so  many  do  ; 
The  change  thence  to  the  sight  here,  and  to  the  subtle 

air  breathed  by  beings  like  us,  who  walk  this 

sphere  ; 
The  change  onward  from  ours,  to  that  of  beings  who 

walk  other  spheres. 


ON  THE  BEACH  AT  NIGHT  ALONE. 

1  ON  the  beach  at  night  alone, 

As  the  old  mother  sways  her  to  and  fro,  singing  her 

husky  song, 
As  I  watch  the  bright  stars  shining— I  think  a  thought 

of  the  clef  of  the  universes,  and  of  the  future. 

2  A  VAST  SIMILITUDE  interlocks  all, 

All  spheres,  grown,  ungrown,  small,  large,  suns,  moons, 

planets,  comets,  asteroids, 
All  the  substances  of  the  same,  and  all  that  is  spiritual 

upon  the  same, 

All  distances  of  place,  however  wide, 
All  distances  of  time — all  inanimate  forms, 
All  Souls — all  living  bodies,  though  they  be  ever  so 

different,  or  in  different  worlds, 
All  gaseous,  watery,  vegetable,  mineral  processes — the 

fishes,  the  brutes, 


86  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

All  men  and  women — me  also  ; 

All  nations,  colors,  barbarisms,  civilizations,  languages ; 

All  identities  that  have  existed,  or  may  exist,  on  this 

globe,  or  any  globe  ; 

All  lives  and  deaths — all  of  the  past,  present,  future  ; 
This  vast  similitude  spans  them,  and  always  has  spann'd, 

and  shall  forever  span  them,  and  compactly  hold 

them,  and  enclose  them. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


A  CAROL  OF  HARVEST,  FOR  1867. 

1 

1  A  SONG  of  the  good  green  grass ! 
A  song  no  more  of  the  city  streets  ; 

A  song  of  farms — a  song  of  the  soil  of  fields. 

2  A  song  with  the  smell  of  sun-dried  hay,  where  the 

nimble  pitchers  handle  the  pitch-fork  ; 
A  song  tasting  of  new  wheat,  and  of  fresh-husk'd  maize. 


3  For  the  lands,  and  for  these  passionate  days,  and  for 

myself, 

Now  I  awhile  return  to  thee,  O  soil  of  Autumn  fields, 
Reclining  on  thy  breast,  giving  myself  to  thee, 
Answering  the  pulses  of  thy  sane  and  equable  heart, 
Tuning  a  verse  for  thee. 

4  O  Earth,  that  hast  no  voice,  confide  to  me  a  voice ! 

O  harvest  of  my  lands !    O  boundless  summer  growths ! 
O  lavish,  brown,  parturient  earth !    O  infinite,  teeming 

womb! 
A  verse  to  seek,  to  see,  to  narrate  thee. 


88  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


6  Ever  upon  this  stage, 

Is  acted  God's  calm,  annual  drama, 

Gorgeous  processions,  songs  of  birds, 

Sunrise,  that  fullest  feeds  and  freshens  most  the  soul, 

The  heaving  sea,  the  waves  upon  the  shore,  the  musical, 

strong  waves, 
The  woods,   the  stalwart  trees,  the  slender,  tapering 

trees, 
The  flowers,  the  grass,  the  lilliput,  countless  armies  of 

the  grass, 

The  heat,  the  showers,  the  measureless  pasturages, 
The  scenery  of  the  snows,  the  winds'  free  orchestra, 
The  stretching,   light-hung  roof  of  clouds  —  the  clear 

cerulean,  and  the  bulging,  silvery  fringes, 
The  high  dilating  stars,  the  placid,  beckoning  stars, 
The  moving  flocks  and  herds,  the  plains  and  emerald 

meadows, 
The  shows  of  all  the  varied  lands,  and  all  the  growths 

and  products. 


6  Fecund  America  !     To  day, 

Thou  art  all  over  set  in  births  and  joys  ! 

Thou  groan'st  with  riches  !  thy  wealth  clothes  thee  as 

with  a  swathing  garment  ! 

Thou  laughest  loud  with  ache  of  great  possessions  ! 
A  myriad-  twining  life,  like  interlacing  vines,  binds  all 

thy  vast  demesne  ! 
As  some  huge  ship,  freighted  to  water's  edge,  thou 

ridest  into  port  ! 
As  rain  falls  from  the  heaven,  and  vapors  rise  from 

earth,  so  have  the  precious  values  fallen  upon 

thee,  and  risen  out  of  thee  ! 
Thou  envy  of  the  globe  !  thou  miracle  ! 
Thou,  bathed,  choked,  swimming  in  plenty  ! 
Thou  lucky  Mistress  of  the  tranquil  barns  ! 
Thou  Prairie  Dame  that   sittest   in   the   middle,  and 

lookest  out  upon  thy  world,  and  lookest  East, 

and  lookest  West  ! 


LEAVES  or  GRASS.  89 

Dispensatress,  that  by  a  word  givest  a  thousand  miles 
— that  giv'st  a  million  farms,  and  raissest  noth 
ing! 

Thou  All- Accep tress — thou  Hospitable — (thou  only  art 
hospitable,  as  God  is  hospitable.) 


7  When  late  I  sang,  sad  was  my  voice  ; 

Sad  were  the  shows  around  me,  with  deafening  noises 

of  hatred,  and  smoke  of  conflict ; 
In  the  midst  of  the  armies,  the  Heroes,  I  stood, 
Or  pass'd  with  slow  step  through  the  wounded  and 

dying. 

8  But  now  I  sing  not  "War, 

Nor  the  measured  march  of  soldiers,  nor  the  tents  of 

camps, 
Nor  the  regiments  hastily  coming  up,  deploying  in  line 

of  battle. 

9  No  more  the  dead  and  wounded  ; 

No  more  the  sad,  unnatural  shows  of  War. 

10  Ask'd  room  those  flush'd  immortal  ranks  ?  the  first 

forth-stepping  armies  ? 

Ask  room,  alas,  the  ghastly  ranks — the  armies  dread 
that  follow'd. 


11  (Pass — pass,  ye  proud  brigades  ! 

So   handsome,   dress'd  in  blue — with  your  tramping, 

sinewy  legs  ; 
With  your   shoulders  young   and   strong — with  your 

"knapsacks  and  your  muskets  ; 
— How  elate  I  stood  and  watch'd  you,  where,  starting 

off,  you  march'd ! 

12  Pass  ; — then  rattle,  drums,  again  ! 

Scream,  you  steamers  on  the  river,  out  of  whistles  loud 
and  shrill,  your  salutes ! 


90  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

For  an   army  heaves  in  sight — O   another  gathering 

army! 
Swarming,  trailing  on  the  rear — O  you  dread,  accruing 

army ! 
O  you  regiments  so  piteous,  with  your  mortal  diarrhoea ! 

with  your  fever ! 
O  my  land's  maimed  darlings !  with  the  plenteous  bloody 

bandage  and  the  crutch  ! 
Lo !  your  pallid  army  follow'd !) 


13  But  on  these  days  of  brightness, 

On  the  far-stretching  beauteous  landscape,  the  roads 
and  lanes,  the  high-piled  farm-wagons,  and  the 
fruits  and  barns, 

Shall  the  dead  intrude  ? 

14  Ah,  the  dead  to  me  mar  not — they  fit  well  in  Na 

ture  ; 
They  fit  very  well  in  the  landscape,  under  the  trees  and 

grass, 
And  along  the  edge  of  the  sky,  in  the  horizon's  far 

margin. 

15  Nor  do  I  forget  you,  departed  ; 

Nor  in  winter  or  summer,  my  lost  ones  ; 

But  most,  in  the  open  air,  as  now,  when  my  soul  is 

rapt  and  at  peace — like  pleasing  phantoms, 
Your  dear  memories,  rising,  glide  silently  by  me. 

8 

16  I  saw  the  day,  the  return  of  the  Heroes  ; 

(Yet  the  Heroes  never  surpass'd,  shall  never  return  ; 
Them,  that  day,  I  saw  not.) 

17  I  saw  the  interminable  Corps — I  saw  the  processions 

of  armies, 

I  saw  them  approaching,  defiling  by,  with  divisions, 
Streaming  northward,  their  work  done,  camping  awhile 

in  clusters  of  mighty  camps. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  91 

18  No  holiday  soldiers  ! — youthful,  yet  veterans  ; 
Worn,  swart,  handsome,  strong,  of  the  stock  of  home 
stead  and  workshop, 

Harden'd  of  many  a  long  campaign  and  sweaty  march, 
Inured  on  many  a  hard-fought,  bloody  field. 


19  A  pause — the  armies  wait ; 

A  million  flush'd,  embattled  conquerors  wait ; 

The  world,  too,  waits — then,  soft  as  breaking  night,  and 

sure  as  dawn, 
They  melt — they  disappear. 

20  Exult,  indeed,  O  lands !  victorious  lands  ! 

Not  there  your  victory,  on  those  red,  shuddering  fields  ; 
But  here  and  hence  your  victory. 

• 

21  Melt,  melt  away,  ye  armies !  disperse,  ye  blue-clad 

soldiers ! 
Kesolve  ye  back  again — give  up,  for  good,  your  deadly 

arms  ; 
Other  the  arms,  the  fields  henceforth  for  you,  or  South 

or  North,  or  East  or  West, 
With  saner  wars — sweet  wars — life-giving  wars. 

10 

22  Loud,  O  my  throat,  and  clear,  O  soul ! 

The  season  of  thanks,  and  the  voice  of  full-yielding  ; 
The  chant  of  joy  and  power  for  boundless  fertility. 

23  All  till'd  and  untill'd  fields  expand  before  me  ; 
I  see  the  true  arenas  of  my  race — or  first,  or  last, 
Man's  innocent  and  strong  arenas. 

24  I  see  the  Heroes  at  other  toils  ; 

I  see,  well-wielded  in  their  hands,  the  better  weapons. 


92  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


11 

25  I  see  where  America,  Mother  of  All, 
Well-pleased,  with  full-spanning  eye,  gazes  forth,  dwells 

long, 
And  counts  the  varied  gathering  of  the  products. 

26  Busy  the  far,  the  sunlit  panorama  ; 
Prairie,  orchard,  and  yellow  grain  of  the  North, 
Cotton  and  rice  of  the  South,  and  Louisianian  cane  ; 
Open,  unseeded  fallows,  rich  fields  of  clover  and  tim 

othy, 
Kine   and  horses   feeding,   and  droves  of  sheep  and 

swine, 
And  many  a  stately  river  flowing,  and  many  a  jocund 

brook, 

And  healthy  uplands  with  their  herby-perfumed  breezes, 
And  the  good  green  grass  —  that  delicate  miracle,  the 

ever-recurring  grass. 


12 

27  Toil  on,  Heroes !  harvest  the  products ! 

Not  alone  on  those  warlike  fields,  the  Mother  of  All, 
With  dilated  form  and  lambent  eyes,  watch 'd  you. 

28  Toil  on,  Heroes!    toil  well!     Handle   the  weapons 

well! 

The  Mother  of  All — yet  here,  as  ever,  she  watches 
you. 

29  Well-pleased,  America,  thou  beholdest, 

Over  the  fields  of  the  West,  those  crawling  monsters, 

The  human-divine  inventions,  the  labor-saving  imple 
ments  : 

Beholdest,  moving  in  every  direction,  imbued  as  with 
life,  the  revolving  hay-rakes, 

The  steam-power  reaping-machines,  and  the  horse-power 
machines, 


LEAVES  OF  GBASS.  93 

The  engines,  thrashers  of  grain,  and  cleaners  of  grain, 
well  separating  the  straw — the  nimble  work  of 
the  patent  pitch-fork  ; 

Beholdest  the  newer  saw-mill,  the  southern  cotton-gin, 
and  the  rice-cleanser. 

30  Beneath  thy  look,  O  Maternal, 

With  these,  and  else,  and  with  their  own  strong  hands, 
the  Heroes  harvest. 

31  All  gather,  and  all  harvest ; 

(Yet  but  for  thee,  O  Powerful!   not  a  scythe  might 

swing,  as  now,  in  security  ; 
Not  a  maize-stalk  dangle,  as  now,  its  silken  tassels  in 

peace.) 

13 

32  Under  Thee  only  they  harvest — even  but  a  wisp  of 

hay,  under  thy  great  face,  only  ; 
Harvest  the  wheat,  of  Ohio,  Illinois,  Wisconsin — every 

barbed  spear,  under  thee  ; 
Harvest  the  maize  of  Missouri,  Kentucky,  Tennessee — 

each  ear  in  its  light-green  sheath, 
Gather  the  hay  to  its  myriad  mows,  in  the  odorous, 

tranquil  barns, 
Oats  to  their  bins — the  white  potato,  the  buckwheat  of 

Michigan,  to  theirs  ; 
Gather  the  cotton  in  Mississippi  or  Alabama — dig  and 

hoard  the  golden,  the  sweet  potato  of  Georgia 

and  the  Carolinas, 

Clip  the  wool  of  California  or  Pennsylvania, 
Cut  the  flax  in  the  Middle  States,  or  hemp,  or  tobacco 

in  the  Borders, 
Pick  the  pea  and  the  bean,  or  pull  apples  from  the 

trees,  or  bunches  of  grapes  from  the  vines, 
Or  aught  that  ripens  in  all  These  States,  or  North  or 

South, 
Under  the  beaming  sun,  and  under  Thee. 


94:  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


THE   SINGER  IN  THE  PRISON. 


0  sight  of  shame,  and  pain,  and  dole  ! 
O  fearful  thought — a  convict  Soul ! 

RANG  the  refrain  along  the  hall,  the  prison, 

Rose  to  the  roof,  the  vaults  of  heaven  above, 

Pouring  in  floods  of  melody,  in  tones  so  pensive,  sweet 

and  strong,  the  like  whereof  was  never  heard, 
Reaching  the  far-off  sentry,  and  the  armed  guards,  who 

ceas'd  their  pacing, 
Making  the  hearer's  pulses  stop  for  extasy  and  awe. 


2 

O  sight  of  pity,  gloom,  and  dole  / 
0  pardon  me,  a  hapless  Soul ! 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  one  winter  day, 

When  down  a  narrow  aisle,  amid  the  thieves  and  out 
laws  of  the  land, 

(There  by  the  hundreds  seated,  sear-faced  murderers, 
wily  counterfeiters, 

Gather'd  to  Sunday  church  in  prison  walls — the  keep 
ers  round, 

Plenteous,  well-arm'd,  watching,  with  vigilant  eyes,) 

All  that  dark,  cankerous  blotch,  a  nation's  criminal 
mass, 

Calmly  a  Lady  walk'd,  holding  a  little  innocent  child 
by  either  hand, 

Whom,  seating  on  their  stools  beside  her  on  the  plat 
form, 

She,  first  preluding  with  the  instrument,  a  low  and 
musical  prelude, 

In  voice  surpassing  all,  sang  forth  a  quaint  old 
hymn. 


LEAVES  OF  GTEASS.  95 

3 

THE  HYMN. 

A  Soul,  confined  by  bars  and  bands, 
Cries,  Help  !  O  help  !  and  wrings  her  hands  ; 
Blinded  her  eyes — bleeding  her  breast, 
Nor  pardon  finds,  nor  balm  of  rest. 

O  sight  of  shame,  and  pain,  and  dole  I 
0  fearful  thought — a  convict  Soul  I 

Ceaseless,  she  paces  to  and  fro  ; 
O  heart-sick  days !  O  nights  of  wo ! 
Nor  hand  of  friend,  nor  loving  face  ; 
Nor  favor  comes,  nor  word  of  grace, 

0  sight  of  pity,  gloom,  and  dole  ! 
O  pardon  me,  a  hapless  Soul ! 

It  was  not  I  that  sinn'd  the  sin, 
The  ruthless  Body  dragg'd  me  in  ; 
Though  long  I  strove  courageously, 
The  Body  was  too  much  for  me. 

0  Life  !  no  life,  but  bitter  dole  ! 
0  burning,  beaten,  baffled  Soul  / 

(Dear  prison' d  Soul,  bear  up  a  space, 
For  soon  or  late  the  certain  grace  ; 
To  set  thee  free,  and  bear  thee  home, 
The  Heavenly  Pardoner,  Death  shall  come. 

Convict  no  more — nor  shame,  nor  dole  ! 
Depart !  a  God-enfranchis'd  Soul ! ) 


The  singer  ceas'd ; 

One  glance  swept  from  her  clear,  calm  eyes,  o'er  all 

those  up-turn'd  faces ; 
Strange  sea  of  prison  faces — a  thousand  varied,  crafty, 

brutal,  seam'd  and  beauteous  faces  ; 


96  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

Then  rising,  passing  back  along  the  narrow  aisle  be 
tween  them, 

While  her  gown  touch'd  them,  rustling  in  the  silence, 
She  vanish'd  with  her  children  in  the  dusk. 


While  upon  all,  convicts  and  armed  keepers,  ere  they 

stirr'd, 

(Convict  forgetting  prison,  keeper  his  loaded  pistol,) 
A  hush  and  pause  fell  down,  a  wondrous  minute, 
With  deep,  half-stifled   sobs,  and  sound  of  bad  men 

bow'd,  and  moved  to  weeping, 

And  youth's  convulsive  breathings,  memories  of  home, 
The  mother's  voice    in  lullaby,  the   sister's  care,  the 

happy  childhood, 

The  long-pent  spirit  rous'd  to  reminiscence  ; 
— A  wondrous  minute  then — But  after,  in  the  solitary 

night,  to  many,  many  there, 
Years  after — even  in  the  hour  of  death — the  sad  refrain 

— the  tune,  the  voice,  the  words, 

Kesumed — the  large,  calm  Lady  walks  the  narrow  aisle, 
The  wailing  melody  again — the  singer  in  the   prison 

sings  : 

0  sight  of  shame,  and  pain,  and  dole  ! 
0  fearful  thought — a  convict  Soul ! 


WARBLE   FOR  LILAC   TIME. 

WAEBLE  me  now,  for  joy  of  Lilac-time, 

Sort  me,  O  tongue   and  lips,  for  Nature's  sake,   and 

sweet  life's  sake — and  death's  the  same  as  life's, 
Souvenirs  of  earliest  summer — birds'  eggs,  and  the  first 

berries  ; 
Gather  the  welcome  signs,  (as  children,  with  pebbles,  or 

stringing  shells  ;) 
Put  in  April  and  May — the  hylas  croaking  in  the  ponds 

— the  elastic  air, 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  97 

Bees,  butterflies,  the  sparrow  with  its  simple  notes, 

Blue-bird,  and  darting  swallow — nor  forget  the  high- 
hole  flashing  his  golden  wings, 

The  tranquil  sunny  haze,  the  clinging  smoke,  the  vapor, 

Spiritual,  airy  insects,  humming  on  gossamer  wings, 

Shimmer  of  waters,  with  fish  in  them — the  cerulean 
above ; 

All  that  is  jocund  and  sparkling — the  brooks  running, 

The  maple  woods,  the  crisp  February  days,  and  the 
sugar-making  ; 

The  robin,  where  he  hops,  bright-eyed,  brown-breasted, 

With  musical  clear  call  at  sunrise,  and  again  at  sunset, 

Or  flitting  among  the  trees  of  the  apple-orchard,  build 
ing  the  nest  of  his  mate  ; 

The  melted  snow  of  March — the  willow  sending  forth 
its  yellow-green  sprouts  ; 

— For  spring-time  is  here !  the  summer  is  here !  and 
what  is  this  in  it  and  from  it  ? 

Thou,  Soul,  unloosen'd — the  restlessness  after  I  know 
not  what ; 

Come !  let  us  lag  here  no  longer — let  us  be  up  and 
away! 

O  for  another  world !  O  if  one  could  but  fly  like  a 
bird! 

O  to  escape — to  sail  forth,  as  in  a  ship  ! 

To  glide  with  thee,  O  Soul,  o'er  all,  in  all,  as  a  ship  o'er 
the  waters ! 

— Gathering  these  hints,  these  preludes — the  blue  sky, 
the  grass,  the  morning  drops  of  dew ; 

(With  additional  songs — every  spring  will  I  now  strike 
up  additional  songs, 

Nor  ever  again  forget,  these  tender  days,  the  chants  of 
Death  as  well  as  Life  ;) 

The  lilac-scent,  the  bushes,  and  the  dark  green,  heart- 
shaped  leaves. 

Wood  violets,  the  little  delicate  pale  blossoms  called 
innocence, 

Samples  and  sorts  not  for  themselves  alone,  but  for 
their  atmosphere, 

To  tally,  drench'd  with  them,  tested  by  them, 

Cities  and  artificial  life,  and  all  their  sights  and  scenes, 
5 


98  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

My  mind  henceforth,  and  all  its  meditations— my  reci 
tatives, 

My  land,  my  age,  my  race,  for  once  to  serve  in  songs, 
(Sprouts,  tokens  ever  of  death  indeed  the  same  as  life,) 
To  grace  the  bush  I  love — to  sing  with  the  birds, 
A  warble  for  joy  of  Lilac-time. 


WHO  LEARNS  MY  LESSON  COMPLETED 

1  WHO  learns  my  lesson  complete  ? 

Boss,  journeyman,  apprentice — churchman  and  atheist, 
The  stupid  and  the  wise  thinker — parents  and  offspring 

— merchant,  clerk,  porter  and  customer, 
Editor,  author,  artist,  and  schoolboy — Draw  nigh  and 

commence  ; 

It  is  no  lesson — it  lets  down  the  bars  to  a  good  lesson, 
And  that  to  another,  and  every  one  to  another  still. 

2  The  great  laws  take  and  effuse  without  argument ; 
I  am  of  the  same  style,  for  I  am  their  friend, 

I  love  them  quits  and  quits — I  do  not  halt,  and  make 
salaams. 

3  I  lie  abstracted,  and  hear  beautiful  tales  of  things, 

and  the  reasons  of  things  ; 
They  are  so  beautiful,  I  nudge  myself  to  listen. 

4  I  cannot  say  to  any  person  what  I  hear — I  cannot  say 

it  to  myself — it  is  very  wonderful. 

6  It  is  no  small  matter,  this  round  and  delicious  globe, 
moving  so  exactly  in  its  orbit  forever  and  ever, 
without  one  jolt,  or  the  untruth  of  a  single 
second ; 

I  do  not  think  it  was  made  in  six  days,  nor  in  ten 
thousand  years,  nor  ten  billions  of  years, 

Nor  plann'd  and  built  one  thing  after  another,  as  an 
architect  plans  and  builds  a  house. 


LEAVES  or  G-KASS.  99 

6  I  do  not  think  seventy  years  is  the  time  of  a  man  or 

woman, 
Nor  that  seventy  millions  of  years  is  the  time  of  a  man 

or  woman, 
Nor  that  years  will  ever  stop  the  existence  of  me,  or 

any  one  else. 

7  Is  it  wonderful  that  I  should  be  immortal  ?  as  every 

one  is  immortal  ; 

I  know  it  is  wonderful,  but  my  eyesight  is  equally  won 
derful,  and  how  I  was  conceived  in  my  mother's 
womb  is  equally  wonderful ; 

And  pass'd  from  a  babe,  in  the  creeping  trance  of  a 
couple  of  summers  and  winters,  to  articulate  and 
walk — All  this  is  equally  wonderful. 

8  And  that  my  Soul  embraces  you  this  hour,  and  we 

affect  each  other  without  ever  seeing  each  other, 
and  never  perhaps  to  see  each  other,  is  every  bit 
as  wonderful. 

9  And  that  I  can  think  such  thoughts  as  these,  is  just 

as  wonderful ; 

And  that  I  can  remind  you,  and  you  think  them,  and 
know  them  to  be  true,  is  just  as  wonderful. 

10  And  that  the  moon  spins  round  the  earth,  and  on 

with  the  earth,  is  equally  wonderful, 
And  that  they  balance  themselves  with  the  sun  and 
stars,  is  equally  wonderful. 


THOUGHT. 

OF  Justice — As  if  Justice  could  be  anything  but  the 
same  ample  law,  expounded  by  natural  judges 
and  saviors, 

As  if  it  might  be  this  thing  or  that  thing,  according  to 
decisions. 


100  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


MYSELF  AND  MINE. 

1  MYSELF  and  mine  gymnastic  ever, 

To  stand  the  cold  or  heat — to  take  good  aim  with  a 
gun — to  sail  a  boat — to  manage  horses — to  be 
get  superb  children. 

To  speak  readily  and  clearly — to  feel  at  home  among 
common  people, 

And  to  hold  our  own  in  terrible  positions,  on  land  and 
sea. 

2  Not  for  an  embroiderer  ; 

(There  will  always  be  plenty  of  embroiderers — I  wel 
come  them  also  ;) 

But  for  the  fibre  of  things,  and  for  inherent  men  and 
women. 

3  Not  to  chisel  ornaments, 

But  to  chisel  with  free  stroke  the  heads  and  limbs  of 
plenteous  Supreme  Gods,  that  The  States  may 
realize  them,  walking  and  talking. 

4  Let  me  have  my  own  way ; 

Let  others  promulge  the  laws — I  will  make  no  account 

of  the  laws ; 
Let  others  praise  eminent  men  and  hold  up  peace — I 

hold  up  agitation  and  conflict ; 
I  praise  no  eminent  man — I  rebuke  to  his  face  the  one 

that  was  thought  most  worthy. 

6  (Who  are  you  ?  you  mean  devil !     And  what  are  you 

secretly  guilty  of,  all  your  life  ? 
Will  you  turn  aside  all  your  life  ?    Will  you  grub  and 

chatter  all  your  life  ?) 

6  (And  who  are  you— blabbing  by  rote,  years,  pages, 

languages,  reminiscences, 
Unwitting  to-day  that  you  do  not  know  how  to  speak  a 

single  word  ?) 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  101 

7  Let  others  finish  specimens — I  never  finish  specimens  ; 
I  shower  them  by  exhaustless  laws,  as  Nature  does, 

fresh  and  modern  continually. 

8  I  give  nothing  as  duties  ; 

What  others  give  as  duties,  I  give  as  living  impulses  ; 
(Shall  I  give  the  heart's  action  as  a  duty  ?) 

9  Let  others  dispose  of  questions — I  dispose  of  nothing 

— I  arouse  unanswerable  questions  ; 
Who  are  they  I  see  and  touch,  and  what  about  them  ? 
What  about  these  likes  of  myself,  that  draw  me  so  close 

by  tender  directions  and  indirections  ? 

10  I  call  to  the  world  to  distrust  the  accounts  of  my 

friends,  but  listen  to  my  enemies — as  I  myself 
do; 

I  charge  you,  too,  forever,  reject  those  who  would  ex 
pound  me — for  I  cannot  expound  myself  ; 

I  charge  that  there  be  no  theory  or  school  founded  out 
of  me  ; 

I  charge  you  to  leave  all  free,  as  I  have  left  all  free. 

11  After  me,  vista ! 

O,  I  see  life  is  not  short,  but  immeasurably  long  ; 

I  henceforth  tread  the  world,  chaste,  temperate,  an 
early  riser,  a  steady  grower, 

Every  hour  the  semen  of  centuries — and  still  of  centu 
ries. 

12  I  will  follow  up  these  continual  lessons  of  the  air, 

water,  earth  ; 
I  perceive  I  have  no  time  to  lose. 


TO  OLD  AGE. 

I  SEE  in  you  the  estuary  that  enlarges  and  spreads  i 
grandly  as  it  pours  in  the  great  Sea. 


102  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

MIRACLES. 

1  WHY  !  who  makes  much  of  a  miracle  ? 

As  to  me,  I  know  of  nothing  else  but  miracles, 

Whether  I  walk  the  streets  of  Manhattan, 

Or  dart  my  sight  over  the  roofs  of  houses  toward  the 

sky, 
Or  wade  with  naked  feet  along  the  beach,  just  in  the 

edge  of  the  water, 
Or  stand  under  trees  in  the  woods, 
Or  talk  by  day  with  any  one  I  love — or  sleep  in  the  bed 

at  night  with  any  one  I  love, 
Or  sit  at  table  at  dinner  with  my  mother, 
Or  look  at  strangers  opposite  me  riding  in  the  car, 
Or  watch  honey-bees  busy  around  the  hive,  of  a  sum 
mer  forenoon, 

Or  animals  feeding  in  the  fields, 
Or  birds — or  the  wonderfulness  of  insects  in  the  air, 
Or   the  wonderfulness   of  the  sun-down — or  of  stars 

shining  so  quiet  and  bright, 
Or  the  exquisite,  delicate,  thin  curve  of  the  new  moon 

in  spring  ; 
Or  whether  I  go  among  those  I  like  best,  and  that  like 

me  best — mechanics,  boatmen,  farmers, 
Or  among  the  savans  —  or  to  the  soiree  —  or  to  the 

opera, 
Or  stand  a  long  while  looking  at  the  movements  of 

machinery, 

Or  behold  children  at  their  sports, 
Or  the  admirable  sight  of  the  perfect  old  man,  or  the 

perfect  old  woman, 

Or  the  sick  in  hospitals,  or  the  dead  carried  to  burial, 
Or  my  own  eyes  and  figure  in  the  glass  ; 
These,  with  the  rest,  one  and  all,  are  to  me  miracles, 
The   whole    referring  —  yet  each  distinct,  and  in  its 

place. 

2  To  me,  every  hour  of  the  light  and  dark  is  a  mir 

acle, 
Every  cubic  inch  of  space  is  a  miracle, 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  103 

Every  square  yard  of  the  surface  of  the  earth  is  spread 

with  the  same, 

Every  foot  of  the  interior  swarms  with  the  same  ; 
Every  spear  of  grass — the  frames,  limbs,  organs,  of  men 

and  women,  and  all  that  concerns  them, 
All  these  to  me  are  unspeakably  perfect  miracles. 

3  To  me  the  sea  is  a  continual  miracle  ; 

The  fishes  that  swim — the  rocks — the  motion  of  the 

waves — the  ships,  with  men  in  them, 
What  stranger  miracles  are  there  ? 


SPARKLES  FROM  THE  WHEEL. 


WHERE  the  city's  ceaseless  crowd  moves  on,  the  live 
long  day, 

Withdrawn,  I  join  a  group  of  children  watching — I 
pause  aside  with  them. 

By  the  curb,  toward  the  edge  of  the  flagging, 

A  knife-grinder  works  at  his  wheel,  sharpening  a  great 

knife  ; 
Bending  over,  he  carefully  holds  it  to  the  stone — by 

foot  and  knee, 
With  measur'd  tread,  he  turns  rapidly — As  he  presses 

with  light  but  firm  hand, 
Forth  issue,  then,  in  copious  golden  jets, 
Sparkles  from  the  wheel. 


The  scene,  and  all  its  belongings — how  they  seize  and 
affect  me ! 

The  sad,  sharp-chinn'd  old  man,  with  worn  clothes,  and 
broad  shoulder-band  of  leather  ; 

Myself,  effusing  and  fluid — a  phantom  curiously  float 
ing — now  here  absorb'd  and  arrested  ; 


104  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

The  group,  (an  unminded  point,  set  in  a  vast  surround 
ing  ;) 

The  attentive,  quiet  children — the  loud,  proud,  restive 
base  of  the  streets  ; 

The  low,  hoarse  purr  of  the  whirling  stone — the  light- 
press'd  blade, 

Diffusing,  dropping,  sideways-darting,  in  tiny  showers 
of  gold, 

Sparkles  from  the  wheel. 


EXCELSIOR. 

WHO  has  gone  farthest  ?  For  lo  J  have  not  I  gone  far 
ther? 

And  who  has  been  just  ?  For  I  would  be  the  most  just 
person  of  the  earth  ; 

And  who  most  cautious  ?  For  I  would  be  more  cau 
tious  ; 

And  who  has  been  happiest  ?  O  I  think  it  is  I !  I  think 
no  one  was  ever  happier  than  I ; 

And  who  has  lavish'd  all  ?  For  I  lavish  constantly  the 
best  I  have  ; 

And  who  has  been  firmest  ?  For  I  would  be  firmer  ; 

And  who  proudest  ?  For  I  think  I  have  reason  to  be 
the  proudest  son  alive — for  I  am  the  son  of  the 
brawny  and  tall-topt  city  ; 

And  who  has  been  bold  and  true  ?  For  I  would  be  the 
boldest  and  truest  being  of  the  universe  ; 

And  who  benevolent  ?  For  I  would  show  more  benevo 
lence  than  all  the  rest ; 

And  who  has  projected  beautiful  words  through  the 
longest  time  ?  Have  I  not  outvied  him  ?  have  I 
not  said  the  words  that  shall  stretch  through 
longer  time  ? 

And  who  has  receiv'd  the  love  of  the  most  friends  ?  For 
I  know  what  it  is  to  receive  the  passionate  love 
of  many  friends ; 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  105 

And  who  possesses  a  perfect  and  enamour'd  body  ?  For 
I  do  not  believe  any  one  possesses  a  more  perfect 
or  enamour'd  body  than  mine  ; 

And  who  thinks  the  amplest  thoughts  ?  For  I  will  sur 
round  those  thoughts  ; 

And  who  has  made  hymns  fit  for  the  earth  ?  For  I  am 
mad  with  devouring  extasy  to  make  joyous  hymns 
for  the  whole  earth ! 


MEDIUMS. 

THEY  shall  arise  in  the  States  ; 

They  shall  report  Nature,  laws,  physiology,  and  happi 
ness  ; 

They  shall  illustrate  Democracy  and  the  kosmos  ; 

They  shall  be  alimentive,  amative,  perceptive  ; 

They  shall  be  complete  women  and  men — their  pose 
brawny  and  supple,  their  drink  water,  their 
blood  clean  and  clear  ; 

They  shall  enjoy  materialism  and  the  sight  of  products 
— they  shall  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  beef,  lumber, 
bread-stuffs,  of  Chicago,  the  great  city  ; 

They  shall  train  themselves  to  go  in  public  to  become 
orators  and  oratresses  ; 

Strong  and  sweet  shall  their  tongues  be — poems  and 
materials  of  poems  shall  come  from  their  lives — 
they  shall  be  makers  and  finders  ; 

Of  them,  and  of  their  works,  shall  emerge  divine  con 
veyers,  to  convey  gospels  ; 

Characters,  events,  retrospections,  shall  be  convey'd  in 
gospels — Trees,  animals,  waters,  shall  be  con 
vey'd, 

Death,  the  future,  the  invisible  faith,  shall  all  be  con 
vey'd. 


106  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 


KOSMOS. 

WHO  includes  diversity,  and  is  Nature, 

Who  is  the  amplitude  of  the  earth,  and  the  coarseness 
and  sexuality  of  the  earth,  and  the  great  charity 
of  the  earth,  and  the  equilibrium  also, 

Who  has  not  look'd  forth  from  the  windows,  the  eyes, 
for  nothing,  or  whose  brain  held  audience  with 
messengers  for  nothing  ; 

Who  contains  believers  and  disbelievers — Who  is  the 
most  majestic  lover  ; 

Who  holds  duly  his  or  her  triune  proportion  of  real 
ism,  spiritualism,  and  of  the  aesthetic,  or  intel 
lectual, 

Who,  having  considered  the  Body,  finds  all  its  organs 
and  parts  good ; 

Who,  out  of  the  theory  of  the  earth,  and  of  his  or  her 
body,  understands  by  subtle  analogies  all  other 
theories, 

The  theory  of  a  city,  a  poem,  and  of  the  large  politics 
of  These  States  ; 

Who  believes  not  only  in  our  globe,  with  its  sun  and 
moon,  but  in  other  globes,  with  their  suns  and 
moons  ; 

Who,  constructing  the  house  of  himself  or  herself,  not 
for  a  day,  but  for  all  time,  sees  races,  eras,  dates, 
generations, 

The  past,  the  future,  dwelling  there,  like  space,  insep 
arable  together. 


TO  A  PUPIL. 

1  Is  reform  needed  ?  Is  it  through  you  ? 

The  greater  the  reform  needed,  the  greater  the  person 
ality  you  need  to  accomplish  it. 

2  You !  do  you  not  see  how  it  would  serve  to  have  eyes, 

blood,  complexion,  clean  and  sweet  ? 


LEAVES  OF  GBASS.  107 

Do  you  not  see  how  it  would  serve  to  have  such  a  Body 
and  Soul,  that  when  you  enter  the  crowd,  an 
atmosphere  of  desire  and  command  enters  with 
you,  and  every  one  is  impressed  with  your  per 
sonality  ? 

3  O  the  magnet !  the  flesh  over  and  over ! 

Go,  dear  friend !  if  need  be,  give  up  all  else,  and  com 
mence  to-day  to  inure  yourself  to  pluck,  reality, 
self-esteem,  definiteness,  elevatedness  ; 

Eest  not,  till  you  rivet  and  publish  yourself  of  your 
own  personality. 


WHAT  AM  I,  AFTER  ALL. 

1  WHAT  am  I,  after  all,  but  a  child,  pleas'd  with  the 
sound  of  my  own  name  ?  repeating  it  over  and 
over  ; 

1  stand  apart  to  hear — it  never  tires  me. 

2  To  you,  your  name  also; 

Did  you  think  there  was  nothing  but  two  or  three  pro 
nunciations  in  the  sound  of  your  name  ? 


OTHERS  MAY  PRAISE  WHAT  THEY  LIKE. 

OTHERS  may  praise  what  they  like  ; 

But  I,  from  the  banks  of  the  running  Missouri,  praise 

nothing,  in  art,  or  aught  else, 
Till  it  has  well  inhaled  the  atmosphere  of  this  river — 

also  the  western  prairie-scent, 
And  fully  exudes  it  again. 


108  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

BROTHER  OF  ALL,  WITH  GENEROUS  HAND. 

(G.  P.,  Buried  February,  1870.) 
1 

1  BBOTHEB,  of  all,  with  generous  hand, 

Of  thee,  pondering  on  thee,  as  o'er  thy  toinb,  I  and  my 

Soul, 

A  thought  to  launch  in  memory  of  thee, 
A  burial  verse  for  thee. 

2  What  may  we  chant,  O  thou  within  this  tomb  ? 
What  tablets,  pictures,  hang  for  thee,  O  millionaire  ? 
— The  life  thou  lived'st  we  know  not, 

But  that  thou  walk'dst  thy  years  in  barter,  'mid  the 

haunts  of  brokers  ; 
Nor  heroism  thine,  nor  war,  nor  glory. 

3  Yet  lingering,  yearning,  joining  soul  with  thine, 
If  not  thy  past  we  chant,  we  chant  the  future, 
Select,  adorn  the  future. 


2 

4  Lo,  Soul,  the  graves  of  heroes ! 

The  pride  of  lands — the  gratitudes  of  men, 

The  statues  of  the  manifold  famous  dead,  Old  World 

and  New, 
The  kings,  inventors,  generals,  poets,  (stretch  wide  thy 

vision,  Soul,) 
The  excellent   rulers  of  the  races,  great  discoverers, 

sailors, 
Marble   and    brass   select  from   them,   with  pictures, 

scenes, 

(The  histories  of  the  lands,  the  races,  bodied  there, 
In  what  they've  built  for,  graced  and  graved, 
Monuments  to  their  heroes.) 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  109 

3 

5  Silent,  my  Soul, 

With  drooping  lids,  as  waiting,  ponder'd, 
Turning  from  all  the  samples,  all  the  monuments  of 
heroes. 

6  While  through  the  interior  vistas, 

Noiseless  uprose,  phantasmic,  (as,  by  night,  Auroras  of 

the  North,) 

Lambent  tableaux,  prophetic,  bodiless  scenes, 
Spiritual  projections. 

7  In  one,  among  the  city  streets,  a  laborer's  home  ap- 

pear'd, 

After  his  day's  work  done,  cleanly,  sweet-air'd,  the  gas 
light  burning, 

The  carpet  swept,  and  a  fire  in  the  cheerful  stove. 

8  In  one,  the  sacred  parturition  scene, 

A  happy,  painless  mother  birth'd  a  perfect  child. 

9  In  one,  at  a  bounteous  morning  meal, 
Sat  peaceful  parents,  with  contented  sons. 

10  In  one,  by  twos  and  threes,  young  people, 
Hundreds  concentering,  walk'd  the  paths  and  streets 

and  roads, 
Toward  a  tall-domed  school. 

11  In  one  a  trio,  beautiful, 

Grandmother,     loving    daughter,    loving    daughter's 

daughter,  sat, 
Chatting  and  sewing. 

12  In  one,  along  a  suite  of  noble  rooms, 

'Mid  plenteous  books  and  journals,  paintings  on  the 

walls,  fine  statuettes, 
Were  groups  of  friendly  journeymen,  mechanics,  young 

and  old, 
Beading,  conversing. 


110  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

13  All,  all  the  shows  of  laboring  life, 

City  and  country,  women's,  men's  and  children's, 
Their  wants  provided  for,  hued  in  the  sun,  and  tinge*d 

for  once  with  joy, 
Marriage,  the  street,  the  factory,  farm,  the  house-room, 

lodging-room, 
Labor  and  toil,   the  bath,   gymnasium,  play-grouud, 

library,  college, 

The  student,  boy  or  girl,  led  forward  to  be  taught ; 
The  sick  cared  for,    the   shoeless   shod — the   orphan 

fathered  and  mother'd, 
The  hungry  fed,  the  houseless  housed  ; 
(The  intentions  perfect  and  divine, 
The  workings,  details,  haply  human.) 

4 

14  O  thou  within  this  tomb, 

From  thee,  such  scenes — thou  stintless,  lavish  Giver, 

Tallying  the  gifts  of  Earth — large  as  the  Earth, 

Thy  name  an  Earth,  with  mountains,  fields  and  rivers. 

15  Nor  by  your  streams  alone,  you  rivers, 
By  you,  your  banks,  Connecticut, 

By  you,  and  all  your  teeming  life,  Old  Thames, 

By  you,  Potomac,  laving  the  ground  Washington  trod 

— by  you  Patapsco, 
You,  Hudson — you,   endless   Mississippi — not  by  you 

alone, 
But  to  the  high  seas  launch,  my  thought,  his  memory. 


16  Lo,  Soul,  by  this  tomb's  lambency, 

The  darkness  of  the  arrogant  standards  of  the  world, 
With  all  its  flaunting  aims,  ambitions,  pleasures. 

17  (Old,  commonplace,  and  rusty  saws, 

The  rich,  the  gay,  the  supercilious,  smiled  at  long, 
Now,  piercing  to  the  marrow  in  my  bones, 
Fused  with  each  drop  my  heart's  blood  jets, 
Swim  in  ineffable  meaning.) 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS.  Ill 

18  Lo,  Soul,  the  sphere  requireth,  portioneth, 
To  each  his  share,  his  measure, 

The   moderate    to    the    moderate,   the   ample  to   the 
ample. 

19  Lo,  Soul,  see'st  thou  not,  plain  as  the  sun, 
The  only  real  wealth  of  wealth  in  generosity, 
The  only  life  of  life  in  goodness  ?    . 


NIGHT  ON  THE  PRAIRIES. 

1  NIGHT  on  the  prairies  ; 

The  supper  is  over — the  fire  on  the  ground  burns  low  ; 

The  wearied  emigrants  sleep,  wrapt  in  their  blankets  : 

1  walk  by  myself — I  stand  and  look  at  the  stars,  which 

I  think  now  I  never  realized  before. 

2  Now  I  absorb  immortality  and  peace, 
I  admire  death,  and  test  propositions. 

3  How  plenteous  !  How  spiritual !  How  resume  ! 

The  same  Old  Man  and  Soul — the  same  old  aspirations, 
and  the  same  content. 

4  I  was  thinking  the  day  most  splendid,  till  I  saw  what 

the  not-day  exhibited, 

I  was  thinking  this  globe  enough,  till  there  sprang  out 
so  noiseless  around  me  myriads  of  other  globes. 

6  Now,  while  the  great  thoughts  of  space  and  eternity 
fill  me,  I  will  measure  myself  by  them  ; 

And  now,  touch'd  with  the  lives  of  other  globes,  arrived 
as  far  along  as  those  of  the  earth, 

Or  waiting  to  arrive,  or  pass'd  on  farther  than  those  of 
the  earth, 


112  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

I  henceforth  no  more  ignore  them,  than  I  ignore  my 

own  life, 
Or  the  lives  of  the  earth  arrived  as  far  as  mine,   or 

waiting  to  arrive. 

6  O  I  see  now  that  life  cannot  exhibit  all  to  me — as  the 

day  cannot, 
I  see  that  I  am  to  wait  for  what  will  be  exhibited  by 

death. 


ON  JOURNEYS  THROUGH  THE  STATES. 

1  ON  journeys  through  the  States  we  start, 
(Ay,  through  the  world — urged  by  these  songs, 
Sailing  henceforth  to  every  land — to  every  sea  ;) 

We,  willing  learners  of  all,  teachers  of  all,  and  lovers 
of  all. 

2  We  have  watch'd  the  seasons  dispensing  themselves, 

and  passing  on, 

We  have  said,  Why  should  not  a  man  or  woman  do  as 
much  as  the  seasons,  and  effuse  as  much  ? 

8  We  dwell  a  while  in  every  city  and  town  ; 

We  pass  through  Kanada,  the  north-east,  the  vast  valley 

of  the  Mississippi,  and  the  Southern  States  ; 
We  confer  on  equal  terms  with  each  of  The  States, 
We  make  trial  of  ourselves,  and  invite  men  and  women 

to  hear ; 
We  say  to  ourselves,  Eemember,  fear  not,  be  candid, 

promulge  the  body  and  the  Soul ; 
Dwell  a  while  and  pass  on — Be  copious,  temperate, 

chaste,  magnetic, 
And  what  you  efluse  may  then  return  as  the  seasons 

return. 
And  may  be  just  as  much  as  the  seasons. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


SAVANTISM. 

THITHEB,  as  I  look,  I  see  each  result  and  glory  retracn\ 
itself  and  nestling  close,  always  obligated  ; 

Thither  hours,  months,  years — thither  trades,  compacts, 
establishments,  even  the  most  minute ; 

Thither  every-day  life,  speech,  utensils,  politics,  per 
sons,  estates  ; 

Thither  we  also,  I  with  my  leaves  and  songs,  trustful, 
admirant, 

As  a  father,  to  his  father  going,  takes  his  children 
along  with  him. 


LOCATIONS   AND   TIMES. 

LOCATIONS  and  times — what  is  it  in  me  that  meets  them 
all,  whenever  and  wherever,  and  makes  me  at 
home? 

Forms,  colors,  densities,  odors — what  is  it  in  me  that 
corresponds  with  them  ? 


THOUGHT. 

OF  Equality — As  if  it  harm'd  me,  giving  others  the 
same  chances  and  rights  as  myself — As  if  it 
were  not  indispensable  to  my  own  rights  that 
others  possess  the  same. 


OFFERINGS. 

A  THOUSAND  perfect  men  and  women  appear, 
Around  each  gathers  a  cluster  of  friends,  and  gay  chil 
dren  and  youths,  with  offerings. 


-,-JQ  LEAVES  or  GBASS. 

I  hen  TESTS. 

Q  ,L  submit  to  them,  where  they  sit,  inner,  secure, 
unapproachable  to  analysis,  in  the  Soul ; 

Not  traditions — not  the  outer  authorities  are  the  judges 
— they  are  the  judges  of  outer  authorities,  and 
of  all  traditions  ; 

They  corroborate  as  they  go,  only  whatever  corrobo 
rates  themselves,  and  touches  themselves  ; 

For  all  that,  they  have  it  forever  in  themselves  to  cor 
roborate  far  and  near,  without  one  exception. 


THE  TORCH. 

ON  my  northwest  coast  in  the  midst  of  the  night,  a 
fishermen's  group  stands  watching  ; 

Out  on  the  lake,  that  expands  before  them,  others  are 
spearing  salmon  ; 

The  canoe,  a  dim  shadowy  thing,  moves  across  the 
black  water, 

Bearing  a  Torch  a-blaze  at  the  prow. 


TO  YOU. 

LET  us  twain  walk  aside  from  the  rest ; 

Now  we  are  together  privately,  do  you  discard  cere 
mony  ; 

Come !  vouchsafe  to  me  what  has  yet  been  vouchsafed 
to  none — Tell  me  the  whole  story, 

Let  us  talk  of  death — unbosom  all  freely, 

Tell  me  what  you  would  not  tell  your  brother,  wife, 
husband,  or  physician. 


113 

\ 


PASSAGE  TO  INDIA.  \ 

GODS. 


THOUGHT  of  the  Infinite — the  All  f 
Be  thou  my  God. 

2 

Lover  Divine,  andJPerfect  Comrade! 
Waiting,  content,  invisible  yet,  but  certain, 
Be  thou  my  God. 

3 

Thou — thou,  the  Ideal  Man  !   - 
Fair,  able,  beautiful,  content,  and  loving, 
Complete  in  Body,  and  dilate  in  Spirit, 
Be  thou  my  God. 


O  Death — (for  Life  has  served  its  turn  ;) 
Opener  and  usher  to  the  heavenly  mansion 
Be  thou  my  God. 


Aught,  aught,  of  mightiest,  best,  I  see,  conceive,  or 

know, 

(To  break  the  stagnant  tie — thee,  thee  to  free,  O  Soul,) 
Be  thou  my  God. 

6 

Or  thee,  Old  Cause,  whene'er  advancing ; 
All  great  Ideas,  the  races'  aspirations, 
All  that  exalts,  releases  thee,  my  Soul ! 
All  heroisms,  deeds  of  rapt  enthusiasts, 
Be  ye  my  Gods ! 

7 

Or  Time  and  Space ! 

Or  shape  of  Earth,  divine  and  wondrous ! 

Or  shape  in  I  myself— or  some  fair  shape,  I,  viewing, 

worship, 

Or  lustrous  orb  of  sun,  or  star  by  night, 
Be  ye  iny  Gods. 


• 

^"*^ 

*      >  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

TO  ONE  SHORTLY  TO  DIE. 

1 

1  FROM  all  the  rest  I  single  out  you,  having  a  message 

for  you  : 
You  are  to  die — Let  others  tell  you  what  they  please,  I 

cannot  prevaricate, 

1  am  exact  and  merciless,  but  I  love  you — There  is  no 

escape  for  you. 

2  Softly  I  lay  my  right  hand  upon  you — you  just  feel  it, 
I  do  not  argue — I  bend  my  head  close,  and  half  en 
velop  it, 

I  sit  quietly  by — I  remain  faithful, 
I  am  more  than  nurse,  more  than  parent  or  neighbor, 
I  absolve  you  from  all  except  yourself,  spiritual,  bodily 
— that  is  eternal — you  yourself  will  surely  escape, 
The  corpse  you  will  leave  will  be  but  excrementitious. 

2 

3  The  sun  bursts  through  in  unlooked-for  directions ! 
Strong  thoughts  fill  you,  and  confidence— you  smile! 
You  forget  you  are  sick,  as  I  forget  you  are  sick, 

You  do  not  see  the  medicines — you  do  not  mind  the 
weeping  friends — I  am  with  you, 

I  exclude  others  from  you — there  is  nothing  to  be  com 
miserated, 

I  do  not  commiserate — I  congratulate  you. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS. 


Now  FINALE  TO  THE  SHORE. 


NOW  FINALE  TO  THE   SHORE. 

Now  finale  to  the  shore  ! 

Now,  land  and  life,  finale,  and  farewell ! 

Now  Voyager  depart !  (much,  much  for  thee  is  yet  in 

store  ;) 

Often  enough  hast  thou  adventur'd  o'er  the  seas, 
Cautiously  cruising,  studying  the  charts, 
Duly  again  to  port,  and  hawser's  tie,  returning  : 
— But  now  obey  thy  cherish'd,  secret  wish, 
Embrace  thy  friends — leave  all  in  order  ; 
To  port,  and  hawser's  tie,  no  more  returning, 
Depart  upon  thy  endless  cruise,  old  Sailor ! 


SHUT  NOT  YOUR  DOORS,  &c. 

SHUT  not  your  doors  to  me,  proud  libraries, 

For  that  which  was  lacking  on  all  your  well-filTd 
shelves,  yet  needed  most,  I  bring  ; 

Forth  from  the  army,  the  war  emerging — a  book  I 
have  made, 

The  words  of  my  book  nothing — the  drift  of  it  every 
thing  ; 


118  PASSAGE  TO  INDIA. 

A  book  separate,  not  link'd  with  the  rest,  nor  felt  by 

the  intellect, 

But  you,  ye  untold  latencies,  will  thrill  to  every  page  ; 
Through  Space  and  Time  fused  in  a  chant,  and  the 

flowing,  eternal  Identity, 
To  Nature,  encompassing  these,  encompassing  God — 

to  the  joyous,  electric  All, 
To  the   sense   of  Death — and  accepting,   exulting  in 

Death,  in  its  turn,  the  same  as  life, 
The  entrance  of  Man  I  sing. 


THOUGHT. 

As  they  draw  to  a  close, 

Of  what  underlies  the  precedent  songs — of  my  aims  in 

them  ; 

Of  the  seed  I  have  sought  to  plant  in  them  ; 
Of  joy,  sweet  joy,  through  many  a  year,  in  them  ; 
(For  them — for  them  have  I  lived — In  them  my  work 

is  done  ;) 
Of  many  an  aspiration  fond — of  many  a  dream  and 

plan, 
Of  you,  O  mystery  great! — to  place  on  record  faith  in 

you,  O  death ! 

— To  compact  you,  ye  parted,  diverse  lives  ! 
To  put  rapport  the  mountains,  and  rocks,  and  streams, 
And  the  winds  of  the  north,  and  the  forests  of  oak  and 

pine, 
With  you,  O  soul  of  man. 


THE  UNTOLD  WANT. 

THE  untold  want,  by  life  and  land  ne'er  granted, 
Now,  Voyager,  sail  thou  forth,  to  seek  and  find. 


Now  FINALE  TO  THE  SHOKE.  119 


PORTALS. 

WHAT  are  those  of  the  known,  but  to  ascend  and  enter 

the  Unknown  ? 
And  what  are  those  of  life,  but  for  Death  ? 


THESE  CAROLS. 

THESE  Carols,  sung  to  cheer  my  passage  through  the 

world  I  see, 
For  completion,  I  dedicate  to  the  Invisible  World. 


THIS  DAY,  O  SOUL. 

day,  O  Soul,  I  give  you  a  wondrous  mirror  ; 

Long  in  the  dark,  in  tarnish  and  cloud  it  lay — But  the 
cloud  has  pass'd,  and  the  tarnish  gone  ; 

.  .  .  Behold,  O  Soul !  it  is  now  a  clean  and  bright  mir 
ror, 

Faithfully  showing  you  all  the  things  of  the  world. 


WHAT  PLACE  IS  BESIEGED? 

WHAT  place  is  besieged,  and  vainly  tries  to  raise  the 
siege  ? 

Lo !  I  send  to  that  place  a  commander,  swift,  brave, 
immortal ; 

And  with  him  horse  and  foot— and  parks  of  artil 
lery, 

And  artillery-men,  the  deadliest  that  ever  fired  gun. 


120  Now  FINALE  TO  THE  SHOBE. 


TO  THE  READER  AT  PARTING. 

Now,  dearest  comrade,  lift  me  to  your  face, 

We  must  separate  awhile — Here !  take  from  my  lips 

this  kiss  ; 

Whoever  you  are,  I  give  it  especially  to  you  ; 
So  long  /—And  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again. 


JOY,  SHIPMATE,  JOY 

JOY  !  shipmate — joy ! 
(Pleas'd  to  my  Soul  at  death  I  cry  ;) 
Our  life  is  closed — our  life  begins  ; 
The  long,  long  anchorage  we  leave, 
The  ship  is  clear  at  last — she  leaps ! 
She  swiftly  courses  from  the  shore ; 
Joy!  shipmate — joy! 


